


The Christmas Howl

by ZainClaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 30,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZainClaw/pseuds/ZainClaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterek Christmas Calendar project, following the pack every day of December in preparation for Christmas.</p><p>Check out the <a href="http://thechristmashowl.tumblr.com/">actual calendar blog</a> we made with all the fanart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Snowing

**Author's Note:**

> This was a team effort! Chapters are written by different authors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 1: Stiles gets overexcited about the snow arriving at Beacon Hills and convinces Scott to help him build a snowman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Scott’s sitting by his desk, burying himself as deep as he can get into his studies, when the front door opens with a loud bang on the bottom floor. He can hear Stiles’ rushing steps and drawling voice travel through the house as he climbs the stairs two at a time. 

“It’s snowing!” He announces, appearing in the doorway of Scott’s bedroom, a grin threatening to break the sides of his face. 

He has a long red scarf wrapped in two sloppy circles around his neck and a matching hat on his otherwise bare head to go with it. His nose and cheeks are slightly flushed, providing he’d probably ran there instead of going by car. The dampness of his jeans and his attempt to catch his breath are what convince Scott of that theory. 

Scott glances disbelievingly out the window, eyebrows raised. The blinds to the window are open and only a blind man would be unable to notice the white world outside. He returns his gaze to Stiles.

“I can see that.”

“Dude,” Stiles said firmly, clearly disappointed in the lack of reaction. “It’s  _snowing_.”

“And?”

“ _And_  you’re gonna put on your ugly green gloves from last year and come outside to help me build a snowman.”

His voice is his annoyingly casual, yet informative, one; the one he uses when Scott should see no other options, but Scott shakes his head and frowns in disapproval.

“I’m not building a snowman.”

Stiles sighs and presses his lips together in a thin line. 

“That’s what you’ve said every time for the last  _five_  years, yet we all know it always ends with you building a snowman. Which looks more like a troll.”

He finishes with another big smile, the kind Scott can’t help scoff at, but he still isn’t on board.

“Not this year.”

“Dude,” Stiles whines. “Come on. You never cared for your little reputation before.”

“I didn’t  _have_  a reputation before, Stiles,” Scott reminds him. “What I  _did_  have was time to study.”

Stiles lets out a frustrated sound as Scott looks down at the book in his hands, clearly stating that the conversation was over. Stiles only remains silent for barely a minute, however, sloughing down on the edge of Scott’s bed to cross his arms sloppily over his chest and gets his hand stuck in his scarf in the process. 

“Do I have to go down to the pet store and buy you a leech?” He suddenly says in a half-mocking tone. “You know I’ll do it. I’ll even make them put a dog tag with the name  _Scott_  and my phone number on it.”

Scott breathes a heavy sigh, giving his friend the stare he knows is a perfect replica of Derek’s. Freaks Stiles out and is exactly why Scott does it. 

“Come on,” Stiles says again, softer this time. “I’ll help you get an A.”

And to that, Scott actually closes the book and offers him a light smile.

“A-plus.”

Stiles smirks.

“Deal.”

\- - -

They had just put Stiles’ hat on the snowman’s head – because Scott had insisted that it wasn’t  _that_  cold, even though it  _was_ , and therefore hadn’t brought one – when Derek walks by the house. Stiles finds himself more surprised by his arrival than his actual presence, seeing as he usually appears out of nowhere and risks giving Stiles a heart attack more than once.

Another matter that surprised him is the fact that Derek didn’t seem to care for the drop in degrees. Despite the snow falling down, making his hair damp and tousled like Stiles had never seen it, he isn’t wearing anything more than his trademark leather jacket. The sight alone sent a cold shiver down Stiles’ spine.

“Okay, what’s the deal with you wolves?” Stiles demands, throwing Scott, who barely gets his jacket zipper up, a glance before staring back at Derek who stopped by the fence surrounding the front lawn. “I’m freezing my ass off over here.”

Scott looks as if he’s about to ask Derek what he’s doing here – which might’ve been a good idea because Stiles should be wondering that, too – but seems about as baffled at Stiles’ question as he is and looks to Derek for an answer.

Derek scoffs lightly taking a cautious step  through the open gate.

“Don’t you know? Werewolves’ body temperature is warmer than humans’. We hardly ever get cold.” He raises one eyebrow at Scott. “One would think you would’ve noticed this by now.”

Scott’s lips thin controlling himself from snapping back at Derek. Stiles kind of likes the way these two have started treating each other more like squabbling brothers than rivals. The threats and insults exchanged between them are more teasing than actual fighting. Took them long enough.

“So,” he begins thoughtfully. “If I were to bomb him in a snowball fight…”

“You could try,” Scott challenges. 

Stiles pulls a face at him, suddenly not as up for it. He absentmindedly sweeps a hand over the snowman’s head to get rid of the snowflakes already gathered on top of his red hat before doing the same to his own head. The action brings Derek’s full attention to the snowman and a wry smirk spreads across his lips.

“It’s got a weird nose.”

“We were out of carrots,” Stiles pitches back in defense. “Potatoes work fine.”

Derek huffs and shakes his head and that, more than anything, makes Stiles grin. Making the Sourwolf do anything but his default grumpy face, even for a second, is a victory.

Before his sanity catches up and tells him it might be a bad idea, he crouches down to grab a handful of snow and hurls it toward Derek. The not-so-very solid ball hits him square in the chest and Stiles has time to think that his aim has improved a lot right before the Alpha gives him one of his hard stares.

 _Uh-oh_.

In the span of a second, Derek doesn’t tackle him with snowballs like Stiles had assumed he’d do, but with his own body, pushing him into the little snow pile that had gathered while making the snowman. Stiles makes a gasping sound as he lands on his stomach with half of Derek’s weight pinning him down, the cold snow soaking through his clothes.

“Derek!”

“You started it.” Derek’s voice is casual, but Stiles can hear the underlining amusement. 

Somewhere in the distance, Scott’s laughing louder than he had in weeks. 


	2. Red Riding Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 2: The Sheriff buys a new winter jacket for his son, unaware that the color red, and with a hood attached, it makes a little too perfect for Stiles’ position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

To say that Stiles is surprised to come home after another stakeout with the pack to find his dad standing in the hall, holding up a brand new winter jacket would be the understatement of the century.

Even more so if said jacket has a hood attached and looks as though it’d been soaking in a gallon of blood.

Yet that’s exactly what happens second day of December.

“What. Is. That?” He ask, dragging his obvious confusion out.

“It’s a jacket,” his dad replies, arching one eyebrow. “ _Your_  jacket, in fact. You need a warmer one for this weather, don’t you think?”

Stiles remains staring for a moment longer before stating the obvious.

“It’s red.”

“So what?” His dad counters. “You wear a lot of red! You had to have noticed.”

Actually no, he  _hadn’t_  noticed. The vigilant werewolves constantly hanging around him, however, had. The pack already calls him Little Red on a regular basis and he can only imagine how permanent it would become if he starts walking around in  _that_.

But he know better than to cede gifts, especially those from his dad.

The Sheriff had been let in on a lot of secrets concerning the supernatural creatures running around town, but the details about Stiles’ many nicknames was something he’d most likely live without knowing.

Hopefully.

He offers a wry smile as he takes the jacket in his hands to examine it further.

He’s half expecting to find a little note from Scott or Jackson saying  _‘gotcha!’,_  but of course he doesn’t.

Eventually Stiles stops stalling, sighs and puts it on.

He slowly turns around to face his reflection in the mirror and realizes it’s not as bad as he’d thought it’d be.

In fact, he kind of likes it.

It’s cozy and warm and will prevent him from shaking like a leaf just from walking out to his Jeep.

He’s actually asking himself why he’d ever hesitate to wear it when his dad pulls the hood over his head.

He can already hear the sound of Scott trying to contain his laughter.


	3. Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 3: There’s nothing quite as bonding as a round of Secret Santa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

“Man, this is so weird,” Danny says, dropping down heavily onto the couch. He glares at it like this particular shade of green is so hideous that it offends him. 

Isaac cocks his head in question.

“This. All of… this,” Danny gestures toward Erica and Boyd sitting closely together near the unlit fireplace, toward Stiles, Derek and Scott standing by the kitchen counter where they’re arguing about Stiles’ new jacket of all things and to Lydia speaking quietly with Allison and Jackson by the kitchen table.

“What?” Isaac finally says, because it’s not weird. No one is wolfing out at the moment, nothing dangerous is happening, it’s… normal. By any one’s standards.

Danny frowns in concentration before speaking slowly, as if trying to get the words right. “At school I know what I’m supposed to do, I know where I belong, but here…,” his frown deepens. “I have no idea. I mean Allison is useful and Lydia is too. Stiles does awesome research and he’s saved everyone here at least once, but me? Don’t get me wrong, I can hold my own in a fight, but against the supernatural I don’t think I’m of much use.”

Isaac gapes at him. “What do you think we are, some sort of supernatural army? We’re a pack.“

“Yeah, I get that,” Danny insists, frustration evident in his voice, “but what’s my place in it? Why am I even here? I feel even more useless now than when I knew I was out of the loop and I didn’t even think that was possible.”

And suddenly Isaac gets it. He does. He’s been an outcast most of his life; he’s never belonged, barely even had a home. He knows how Danny’s feeling, but how does he tell him that?

“I think,” he says carefully after a moment, “that you just being you is enough, Mahealani.”

“Thanks,” Danny snarks. “That’s the most beautiful thing any one’s ever said to me.”

Isaac makes a frustrated noise. “No you don’t get it, Danny. Everyone in this pack has a place. We’re like a puzzle and you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t fit. And you’re doing that by being just the way you are.”

Now it’s Danny’s turn to stare at Isaac in astonishment. The silence is making Isaac uncomfortable, feeling oddly on edge. The background noises seem to have melted into an incoherent blur. He just hopes Danny understands what he means.

“Thanks,” Danny says again, softly this time. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.”

\- - -

“We’re doing Secret Santa.”

Lydia Martin’s tone brooks no argument. She squashes Danny and Isaac’s squabble with a glare and the entire Hale house falls silent.

“And because I don’t want anyone using heightened senses not all of us have and guess the name via amount of ink or something stupid like that,” she throws a glare at Scott, who has the decency to look a bit sheepish. “I’ve downloaded the perfect app for it.”

“If it weren’t for the fact that you probably know what everyone in this room would buy you, I’d think you’d cheat,” Stiles says.

Lydia picks up on the thread of doubt in his voice and rolls her eyes.

“Look,” she says, thrusting her phone in Stiles’s direction, watching as he takes in the number of downloads and the comments. “It’s a real, legitimate Secret Santa app, from the appstore. Now, can we please get going?”

“Hang on a minute,” Danny pipes up from his spot between Isaac and Jackson on the tiny couch. “How come you decided to do this all of a sudden? There’s no way you’re gonna convince me that this is something you wouldn’t deem unworthy the second one of us brought it up.”

“Oh,” Lydia says with what she knows to be a charmingly evil smile. “But that’s where you’re wrong, Danny. When have I declined hosting an event?” She advances upon him slowly, watching him shrink down into the couch. “When have I ever not appreciated, and let’s be real here because there is going to be a lot of it, chaos?”

“Why would we want to?” Derek breaks in, effectively cutting through Lydia’s smug look and Danny’s wide, terrified eyes from his place on the counter.

“Because it’ll be a great pack exercise or whatever boring reason you’d choose,” she says, rolling her eyes.

And it would. It would be great for the pack to try to get to know each other just that little bit better, but the obvious doubt in all of them is wearing Lydia’s already short patience even thinner.

“Look, most of you would be able to hear it if I were lying, right?” she snaps, fixing each and every one of them with a venomous glare. “So why are you resisting me when you know I’m going to get what I want? Is it because no one wants to get Stiles because he already got the perfect gift from his dad?” she sneers.

Silence.

Then Stiles finally says, “We get to type our own names in. No way I’m trusting you with mine, you know my real one.”

“I just don’t understand why I have to join in-” Derek cuts himself off to glare at Stiles, who’d tried to (discreetly, Lydia assumes) elbow him in the ribs, “That’s all.”

“Yeah well, welcome to what I like to call The World Under Lydia’s Influence. Spoiler alert: Lydia decides everything.”

Derek says something about being a grown man and the whole bunch of them already eating him out of house and home. Stiles seems to lose interest halfway through that sentence and sets course for Lydia, who dignifies Derek with a raised eyebrow.

And that is how Lydia Martin, Queen Genius of Beacon Hills, got Derek Hale to sign up to Secret Santa.

\- - -

Later, when it’s just the two of them, Stiles asks Lydia what her real motivations are. Lydia replies with her usual nonchalance answer of if she’d been lying, every werewolf in the room would have pounced on the chance to duck out of it.

They both know she’s doing it for Jackson.

Only Lydia knows that it’s a rigged app she made herself.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 4: Stiles visit Derek to ask him join the celebration on Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

When Stiles pulls his Jeep up to the usual spot outside the Hale house, he’s not expecting Derek to come outside, throwing remarks on the car’s buckled front bumper. And no matter how Stiles tries to shrug it off, saying he’ll probably take it to a mechanic later this week, Derek still throws his jacket aside and crouches down in the snow before the Jeep to have a look.

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t appreciate the help, it just isn’t the reason he came here. At least not the main one.

Hanging out at Derek’s place had become something of a habit lately, but the rest of the wolves were usually strolling the area.

“What did you do? Crash into a tree?” Derek asks, bending the metal back into place.

Stiles sits on the front porch with Derek’s precious leather jacket in his hands, very much longing to get inside and away from the cold weather. Not that Derek seems to notice.

He shrugs and shudders at the same time when Derek tosses him a questioning glance. “I hit a Kanima, remember? When, apparently, I should have hit an old man instead.”

Derek huffs hollowly.

“Yeah well, you can’t always be the hero.” Stiles can’t tell what exactly Derek means by that, and before he manage to figure it out, Derek continues. “That was months ago though.”

“Werewolves have been using it as a punching sack and a climbing toy since then,” Stiles sighs. He’s lost count of how many times Scott has jumped aboard while he’s driving, or Jackson decides to take his anger out on something and the Jeep just happened to be the closest thing for his Hulk fist.

This time Derek snorts, letting his gaze sweep over the car’s sides and doors where there’s even a faint mark of knuckles.

“Guess it’d be nothing but fair if I fixed it for you then.”

“Well, they’re your pups,” Stiles agrees.

Derek hauls himself up from the filthy ground and straightens to his full length, giving him a tired glare.

“Fortunately for you, I’ve grown too accustomed to your bad dog jokes to care.”

Stiles rolls his eyes as Derek gives the Jeep one last close examination before walking up to the front porch where Stiles is sitting.

He nods a silent thanks when he takes the jacket out of Stiles’ grip before going inside, gesturing Stiles to follow.

“So,” Derek says, entering the kitchen with Stiles on his non-existing tail. “What brings you here? You know Scott’s at home, right?”

Stiles scoffs as he leans back on the counter, stowing his hands down his jeans pockets.

“I’m not here for Scott,” he declares. “I came to see you.”

Derek’s face remains expressionless for the whole moment of silence Stiles lets pass. It’s neither more or less than what he expected.

“Are you coming to my place on Christmas Eve?”

Derek frowns in wonder. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m asking you to,” Stiles responds simply.

Derek blinks and it’s almost visible how his brain kicks in and starts working; searching for an escape.

“Why?” He finally decides to ask.

“Because the whole pack will be there,” Stiles reminds him, picking one of the logical reasons on the top of his head. “And it’ll feel like something’s missing if you aren’t there as well.”

Stiles isn’t even sure whether he speaks for the Betas or himself.

“And your dad?” Derek questions after a while. “I know he’s been filled in on the crazy, but… you don’t think he’s gonna mind having his house infiltrated by werewolves?”

“Actually, it was his idea.”

Derek narrows his eyes in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really,” Stiles says firmly, trying to give him the most confident look he can manage.

Derek rolls his eyes at him, avoiding Stiles’ gaze for a moment to absentmindedly look out the window facing the back of the house.

Stiles studies him for a bit, wondering what’s going through the Alpha’s head, before following his stare.

Even with the house rebuilt, the surroundings outside the porch had been left untouched. Stiles finds himself looking at the remains of what must’ve been a backyard once. Now it’s just a white surface of untouched snow.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Derek suddenly says and Stiles’ eyes return to him.

“Why not?” He counters and to that, Derek doesn’t seem to have an answer.

Or at least not one he wants to say out loud.

Stiles, however, refuses to let the silence reign over them again. He knew this conversation would be difficult and Derek was never the one for talking too much, but this constant quietness was killing him.

“So, what?” he demands. “You plan to just sit here in the dark and mope by yourself? That goes against the rules of Christmas, man.” Derek finally yanks his eyes away from the window to face him again, eyebrows furrowing. “On Christmas Eve, you’re supposed to be surrounded by so many people you don’t even know how they fit around the dinner table,” Stiles continues. “You’re supposed to eat ‘till your stomach hurts and then have candy ‘till you puke. You’re supposed to sit squished into the couch and play last year’s video games. Time’s supposed to fly, because you’re having too much fun.”

He swallows around a lump in his throat, knowing his ideal Christmas is nothing like his real ones, but that’s besides the point he’s attempting to make.

He looks firmly at Derek. “You’re  _not_  supposed to sit here all alone. No, you know what? I  _refuse_  to let you sit here all alone. You’re going.”

Derek studies him for a while, eyes flickering between his determined face and the rise and fall of his chest.

This is a silence Stiles allows to pass without complaint.

Derek looks confused, unsettled, but above all, wondering.

They remain perfectly still for a long time until Derek lets out a slow, loud breath through his nose, and Stiles finds himself trying to recall if the werewolf had been breathing earlier at all.

“Well,” Derek says lowly. “I suppose Lydia will have my head if I don’t show up, right?” He offers Stiles a careful, barely visible smile. “With this whole… Secret Santa thing.”

Stiles huffs to cover up his massive relief. 

“Yeah,” he nods, allowing himself to smile weakly in return because it’s especially essential for him more than anyone that Derek take part in this event. ”She will.”

 

\- - -

 

It’s dark outside when Stiles finally manages to climb back into his Jeep and head home.

Derek has done his best to smooth out the buckles of the Jeep and it looks like Stiles won’t have to visit the mechanics garage after all. Even the imprint of Jackson’s fist is gone.

Derek stands on the front porch with his arms crossed, still only wearing a t-shirt.

He’d told Stiles to stay inside the house while he worked on the Jeep, but Stiles had insisted on coming outside. He’d shivered to the point where his teeth chattering had started to sound like a chant and Derek had failed hiding a smirk.

“So,” Stiles says, tapping his thumbs on his steering wheel and looking at Derek through his side window. “You’ll be there, right?”

Derek puffs out a breath and Stiles feels a weird tingle in his gut.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”


	5. Curly Fries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 5: Stiles and his dad discusses Christmas with the pack, and Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

It’s Wednesday night and not much has been going on the streets of Beacon Hills; which, once again, has led to the Sheriff being persuaded into getting junk food for his son.

Stiles is sitting in the passenger seat with a bag of curly fries in his lap, whereas a fistful of it is already in his mouth.

The Sheriff scoffs and shakes his head at him, chewing on his own burger as he glances around the car where it’s parked on the side of the road. He looks down at the police radio, but it’s silent.

“Well, I better not get used to it,” he sighs. “It’ll hardly be this calm on Christmas Eve.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks, still digging into his bag. “You’ll be home this Christmas.”

“Exactly.”

Stiles looks up from the bag to see a meaningful look directed his way.

“What, you mean the pack?” He wonders. “You think they’ll run around growling and snarling, chasing each other’s tails? They don’t  _have_  tails, Dad!”

“I thought you said Derek did?”

The Sheriff cocks one eyebrow and Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Not all the time. Not when he’s human.”

“Whatever,” his dad says on a sigh, waving away the weirdness with his hand. “Because no; I’m not worried about Derek chasing his tail. I just imagine having a house full of werewolves being anything but quiet.”

Stiles chews and swallows before shrugging lightly.

“I’ll make sure they behave.”

His dad raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Really? And since when did you become their adviser?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question,” Stiles huffs, returning to his food.

The Sheriff sighs softly, taking another bite of his burger. Silence reigns for a while before he mumbles, “Maybe you could teach them how to use the front door.”

“They  _do_ ,” Stiles protests. His dad looks at him flatly. “Okay, maybe not  _all_  of them,” he admits, well aware that even after telling the Sheriff the truth, Derek still prefers entering the house via his window. He exhales loudly around a handful of fries. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Him?”

“Them,” Stiles corrects hurriedly. “I’ll talk to them.”

But it’s no use; the thoughtful sigh coming that follows confirms the Sheriff already knows he’s referring to Derek specifically. Derek, who’s still something of a touchy subject when it comes to his dad and for some reason Stiles feels himself blush, suddenly wishing he could sink through the floor by the thought.

“You know, I doubt people would like the idea of the town’s Sheriff having a former fugitive over for Christmas dinner. The least he can do is stop climbing through my son’s window.”

“Hey, he’s innocent, remember?” Stiles reminds him. “He didn’t kill anyone. No one who didn’t deserve it anyway,” he adds, remembering Derek’s claws slashing Peter’s throat.

His dad raises a hand.

“Stop talking. The less I know the better.” He shakes his head a little. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Don’t mess it up more than it already is.”

Stiles offers him a reassuring smile, still chewing his food.

“It’ll be just like any other Christmas, Dad.”

The Sheriff makes a humming sound and then there’s nothing but the rustle of Stiles’ bag for a while.

“No, it won’t.”

And Stiles knows his dad is right. If this were any other Christmas, the Sheriff would be at the station and Stiles would be spending the night with the McCalls, unless it was the other way around and Melissa had to be at the hospital, whereas they were at the Stilinski’s instead. Some years both adults were busy, leaving Stiles and Scott by themselves.

“No, it won’t,” he agrees after a while, sighing as a smile grows on his lips. “What I’m trying to say is that you won’t have to bring a raw deer to the dinner table.”

At that, his dad actually throws his head back and laughs.


	6. We're In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 6: Christmas is about family. Derek doesn’t have much of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Zombiewretch](http://zombiewretch.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: Aze

 

There have been times in Derek’s life where he’d look forward to this season of the year. Times where he’d spent endless hours running through the cold just to find that one perfect present. Times where he’d been counting down the days until his Uncle Peter would dress up as Santa again and traumatize all of his younger cousins, where Christmas meant exactly the same to him as it does to everybody else.

For him, Christmas isn’t about love, or family, or even religion anymore. Now, Christmas is all about what he’d lost. It makes him realize just how very alone he is.

Stepping out of the newly refurbished Hale House, away from all the excited chatter, Derek breathes out a deep sigh. He closes his eyes and tastes the snow on his lips, the ice on his tongue. It’s a kiss that leaves him feeling cold inside.

Once, Christmas had been all about innocence. An innocence he had lost the moment Kate had stepped into his life.

“Don’t go there,” he says out loud, because it’s something that he feels needs to be said. It interrupts the flow of his thoughts and brings him back to reality.

He stuffs his hands into his leather jacket and makes his decision before it fully forms inside his head. His boots sink deep into the snow, but it doesn’t bother him. He concentrates instead on where he’s going, even though he’s pretty sure he’d be able to find the way with his eyes closed.

He passes snow covered trees - trees he might once have picked with his dad as a Christmas tree - and before he knows it, he’s there. This time, instead of ice and snow, all he tastes is ashes.

There’s a memorial candle at the base of the tree where they had found his sister (had been there since the day he had actually stopped for a moment to mourn), and when he leans down to light it again, his hands are shaking.

“Laura,” he whispers.

The wind steals the words right off his lips and he has to shut his eyes. If he squeezes them hard enough, just like he did as a kid whenever he got too scared of the monsters under his bed – before he realized that he didn’t have to fear them because  _he_  was the monster –, he can imagine her standing in front of him.

He can imagine her hair as brown as his own with eyes too bright and judging and alive. He remembers her, but it’s never enough.

It’s never  _really_  her; always missing some important detail and with every passing day his memory of her fades along with the rest of his family.

He bites his lip and the sudden physical pain makes it easier to breathe, but he doesn’t open his eyes, can’t let go just yet.

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s become a tradition in its own kind of way. Coming here, lighting that one single candle and telling her how sorry he is, but today it just isn’t enough.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes fluttering open. “I know I haven’t been… haven’t been the person you’d wanted me to be, but…”

He trails off to look at the candle flickering in the wind. He’s trying to find the right words, to somehow make up for being such a shitty brother.

“You don’t know how hard it is,” he finally says, and doesn’t even feel guilty when it sounds like an accusation - because it is. “You don’t know… how much I struggle every day just because of this. I can’t even remember what it feels like living without this  _guilt_  eating away at me. I know this is my fault. If it hadn’t been for Kate…”

He shakes his head. He can’t use Kate as his scapegoat anymore.

“I just wish you had told me before. I wish you or Mom, or Dad, or… Peter, had prepared me. But it wasn’t necessary, right, because you were meant to be the alpha, and who would have thought some stupid kids decision would ruin an entire family?”

Derek balls his fists, anger seeping into his voice. An anger he has never let himself feel before, at least not toward his family. In that moment, the anger isn’t his anchor - it’s his fuel.

“If you had showed me just a little bit of that other world, taught me just a little bit about hunters, maybe I would’ve been able to prevent all of this. But you didn’t. You didn’t and you didn’t even try to teach me in New York  even though you knew how hard it would be for me if they caught you, too. You didn’t! You just…,”

Derek’s voice gradually becomes stronger, louder and for every word the wind rips from his throat, he yells out another one.

“You could have prepared me for this! In some way, at least. There must have been a way! But all you did was leave me! You left and I was all alone again.”

His voice breaks and he swallows hard before he’s able to carry on.

“You left me alone with this mess and I don’t know what to do! I have no clue what to do because whenever I try to actually change something, it just gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Everyone leaves me and I can’t do a thing to stop it.”

His tears feel foreign against his skin, wet and warm against the winter’s cold. Derek doesn’t remember the last time he’s cried. Crying is a weakness he can’t afford, but right now he doesn’t care.

His breathing is labored, his heart thumping in his chest, but the pain that holds him in an iron grip is loosening. He feels almost… relieved?

When twigs break just a few yards away from him, Derek almost jumps out of his skin.

Teeth sharpen into fangs, eyes flashing a violent red as he whirls around in search for a heartbeat that sounds just as panicked as his own. There, among the white and black of the forest that could very well be his own personal graveyard stands Stiles, clad in that red jacket of his that had quickly turned into a running joke.

“Dude,” Stiles stresses out, eyes wide with fear and something almost akin to shame as he puts up his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, wolfboy!”

“Stiles!” Derek growls out. He chooses to ignore the snipe at his current appearance in order to get himself back under control. “What are you doing here?!”

The other boy lets out a short laugh that sounds close to hysterics. “Just, y’know, passing through. Wandering in the woods… like a normal person.”

Stiles breathes in a sharp breath, before taking a small step forward as if to comfort him.

“I’m just… sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’m sorry, man, really.”

“Don’t be,” Derek replies sharply, hands still shaking with anger.

Just how much did Stiles hear? He knew this hadn’t been a good idea, knew that he had to look strong in front of the rest of them because they all knew from experience that the smallest mistake could cost them everything.

He shouldn’t have let his walls come down like this. If there is one thing his family taught him, it was to never lose control.

Stiles is talking again, but Derek isn’t listening. Instead, he shakes his head and walks right past him. He’s in the mood for any of this right now.

When Stiles makes no move to follow him, he can’t decide if he feels relieved or disappointed.

 

* * *

 

Derek isn’t sure who exactly made any plans for what looks like a major sleepover at his house, but he’d sure like to wring their necks for it. He locks the doors of his Camaro and holds the grocery bags tightly in his hands as he heads inside the house. His home that is currently filled to the brim with every single member of his rag-tag pack, if the cars and fresh footsteps all around are anything to go by.

“Derek!” Stiles yells as soon as he enters and Derek’s frown is an immediate response.

Ever since the forest incident, he isn’t quite sure how to deal with the other boy.

“Stiles, what’s going on? Because I’m pretty sure there’s no meeting scheduled for tonight.”

“There isn’t,” Stiles agrees. His smile is barely there but it’s a smile that’s a little too prideful for Derek’s taste. What the hell is that kid up to now?

“Stop scaring him, Stiles,” Lydia calls out from the living room and Derek can hear her typing away excitedly on her phone. “Obviously, we’ve got a big surprise planned for you. Surprise! You’ve got friends!”

He rolls his eyes at her, while Stiles snorts.

“Right, sorry to disappoint, but we’re definitely not the three best friends and I’m definitely not in the mood for some “hanging out” right now,” Derek replies, before moving toward the kitchen to unpack his groceries. “Where are the rest of the guys, anyways?”

“What guys?” Stiles says, smile turning more nervous now. “It’s just you, me, and Ms. Sparkles over there.”

“Stiles. Their cars are outside,” Derek deadpans, causing Stiles to curse softly under his breath.

“I knew I’d forgotten about something…,”

“Well now that that’s cleared up, would you mind leaving me alone so I can get some chores done?”

“Are you trying clean the house for Christmas?” Lydia asks with a raised eyebrow as she saunters into the kitchen, fingertips moving over the window sill to show him exactly how many layers of dust has settled there. “Because I’m sorry to inform you, but that  _chore_  is going to take you a little longer than this Christmas. I’m talking retirement age, Derek. So why don’t you forget about that and join us for a friendly chat.”

Her smile is as tight and judging as always, but Derek has to agree with her. He glares at her as he lets the bags fall down on his kitchen table with a small thud.

“Good boy,” she smirks.

“What are we going to do now? Share funny stories of our childhood and play spin the bottle in front of the fire place?”

Before Lydia can respond, Stiles speaks up loudly. “Actually, no. We’re going to save that for some other day; today I have plans. We’re going outside.”

Now it’s Derek’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

“Outside? I thought you were past the age of building snowmen and having snowball fights.”

“You are never past the age of building snowmen and having snowball fights,” Stiles is quick to defend himself, before he shakes his head. “Dude, just come on, will you? I promise that having fun once in a while won’t kill you.”

“I had fun once,” Derek smirks. “It was terrible.”

“Looks like you’ll just have to deal with that, Mr. Pop Culture because I’ve been sitting around here bored out of my mind for far too long already,” Lydia gets in as Stiles moves to push Derek out of the kitchen.

Admitting defeat, Derek allows himself to be dragged outside without another word of protest.

The sun has already set, the sky only illuminated by stars and the moon.

The Beacon Hills Forest stretches on for miles, usually a dark looming mass surrounding him, but today it’s an ocean of light. Memorial candles, just like the one he had picked out for Laura, adorn the trees, swinging peacefully in the evening wind like Christmas lights.

Derek swallows the lump that suddenly forms in his throat as the rest of his pack emerge from the trees. One by one, eyes glowing as brightly as the candles, they make their way toward him. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, and even Scott with Allison right by his side.

“Stiles told us about what happened in the forest,” Scott says when they all gather around him. “He organized all of this. To honor your family.”

Derek can’t speak, just looks at Stiles who scratches the back of his neck, blush visibly forming on his cheeks.

“I just wanted, you know, say sorry. We should have realized something was off. We should have realized how hard this must be, your first Christmas after…,”

Warmth spreads through his chest, the forest coming alive along with the soft light. A light that, for once, doesn’t remind him of burning, and ashes, and despair. This time, the light gives him hope.

Silence falls and Derek soaks it up. They stand together, as one, and when Stiles leans heavy against his side, he doesn’t move away.

In this moment, he feels like he belongs, like he’s finally done something right in his life, like he’s got part of his family back. And he knows, no matter of how much he screwed up in the past, they’ll be able to move on. They’re in this together now.


	7. They're Climbing Your Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 7: Somewhere along the way, climbing through people’s windows became a pack thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Oolongteamix](http://oolongteamix.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/) & [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

Danny’s asleep, dreaming very pleasant dreams, when Jackson barges into his room. He might as well have taken a bucket of ice cold water to the face.

“Hey, Danny,” Jackson says, shaking Danny’s naked shoulder.

Sleep is  _sacred_. You don’t disturb someone who’s  _sleeping._

“Jackson if you don’t give me a valid excuse for being here at,” he pries his eyes open and groans. “Seven in the morning on a day off, I’m going to punch you in the face,” he rasps, voice heavy with sleep. He slaps away Jackson’s hand and pulls the covers up over his head.

He hears Jackson snort, when suddenly there’s a heavy weight plopping down on the bed next to him.

“Move over,” Jackson commands.

“Dude. I wasn’t kidding. I’m not sure, but I think you interrupted something awesome,” Danny mumbles shamelessly, scooting over to make room for his idiot best friend.

“I’m pretty sure that’s related to what I wanted to talk to you about,” Jackson says slyly.

Danny peeks out at Jackson from under the covers. “Dude. How many times do I have to tell you. You’re not my type.” 

“And how many times do I have to tell  _you_ , I’m everybody’s type,” Jackson says, poking Danny’s forehead. Danny smiles. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about myself. I was talking about a certain curly-haired blond fucking cherub you keep finding your way to. Don’t think I didn’t recognize that look you gave him the other day. “

Danny pulls the covers over his head again and feel his cheeks heat up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stiffly. 

“Oh, come on. That look? Look me in the eyes and tell me he wasn’t the main star in your dream.” 

Jackson is a dick and Danny never should have told him that he only ever dreams of real people, because suddenly he  _remembers_  and his mind is filled with images of Isaac, body glistening with sweat and mouth open in an ‘o’, making sinfully delicious sounds and hands pushing against Danny’s chest as Isaac moves rhythmically on top of him-

Suddenly the covers are pulled off him completely. “You  _were_  thinking about sex,” Jackson accuses. “I know your sex-face.” 

“That’s really disturbing,” Danny informs him.

Jackson rolls his eyes and impatiently says, ”So? Are you gonna make a move or what?” 

“I don’t know, man. He seems pretty… fragile. I don’t want to freak him out,” Danny admits, burying his head in his pillow. 

He feels Jackson’s comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Then you’ll just have to be careful.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles has barely rubbed the sleep out of his eyes when a knock on his window startles him. He whirls around, expecting to see either Scott or Derek propped up on the ledge and he can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved when finding it’s the latter.

He prefers if none of the wolves invite themselves into his room before he’s taken his pills. Or gotten dressed, for that matter.

But it’s Friday morning – 7 am to be precise – on a day off, and teenagers like Scott are all at home hibernating like bears during winter.

Not Stiles. And apparently not Derek either. Maybe the guy  _never_  sleeps?

“Damn,” Stiles mumbles as he opens the window. “You’re not here to kill me, are you?” Derek remains sitting on the barricade, cocking an eyebrow at him. “For bombing you with snowballs yesterday,” Stiles reminds him.

Derek snorts, gripping the windowsill with one hand.

“You  _tackled_  me.”

“You tackled me first a few days ago!” Stiles defends.

“Yeah.” Derek nods. He swiftly crawls inside so Stiles has to either move or get a face full of Derek. “So now we’re even.”

Only then does Stiles notice Derek holding his red jacket at his side.

“I just came by to give you this. Found it on the floor of my living room.”

Stiles scoffs as he recalls them all coming back inside after the snowball fight that had occurred after showing Derek the lights in the forest; he’d been so cold he’d refused to take his jacket off until they were all sitting in a ritual-like circle on the carpet. The werewolves’ warmth had made it possible for him to feel his toes again.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, taking the jacket from Derek’s offering hand.

Derek must’ve held it close to him as he made his way here because it’s warm. The kind of warm when just pulled out of a dryer.

Stiles finds himself amazed, his head already coming up with future uses of Scott. One of them involved pizza.

When he eventually looks back up, Derek’s watching him.

Stiles is about to say something, to break the awful silence, when the door to his bedroom swings open and they both turn to see the Sheriff standing in the doorway.

“Oh,” the baffled man says. He’s got his regular cup of coffee in hand, but for once he’s not wearing his uniform. “So you’re up. And…” His gaze travels from his son to the man beside him. “Derek.”

“Sheriff,” Derek greets, somewhat stiffly.

“He was just giving back my jacket,” Stiles says to clarify.

His dad tilts his head to the side, looking thoughtful.

“I’m pretty sure our front door works.”

“Um,” Stiles says dumbly.

He himself isn’t even sure why Derek keeps doing that. Or Scott. Or Jackson. Hell, even he’s climbed his own windows lately. It’s as if it unintentionally became a thing.  _Their_  thing. Pack thing?

“Didn’t want to wake you up,” Derek says softly.

“Well,” his dad breathes, attempting to shrug off the whole situation. “You didn’t. I was up anyway. I’m, uh… I’m off to pick up Melissa at work,” he says while scratching the back of his neck. “Going to grab some breakfast.”

“Right,” Stiles nods. “Good. Most important meal of the day!” 

His dad gives him one last frown before slowly closing the door behind him.

As soon as it clicks shut, Stiles turns back to Derek.

“Couldn’t you at least have given me a heads-up?” He hisses.

The steps approaching his door should have been no match for Derek’s super-duper werewolf hearing.

The Alpha gives him an offended scowl.

“I was distracted,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.

“By what?”

“By  _you_ ,” Derek rumbles with an exaggerated eye roll. He quite literally stomps back to the open window like a sullen child.

Stiles is a little thrown off by that, but figures even super heroes can get distracted by small things now and then.

He turns in time to see Derek climb back on the roof, now with both hands at his disposal. When Derek disappears from Stiles’ line of sight, he drops the jacket on the floor and steps up to the window.

Derek is sitting in a crouched position on the edge, ready to take a leap of faith and jump down to the ground several feet below.

“You know, we’re not really even,” Stiles says. “You owe me a phone.”

Derek slowly looks up at him, as if he knew Stiles would never let him go without a proper good-bye.

“How so?” He asks, and Stiles is pretty sure there’s a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Well,” Stiles pauses to fold his arms on the windowsill. “Half a year ago I had to choose between you or my phone.” He takes a breath; every time he thinks of that moment he can practically feel Derek’s weight in his arms like a ghostly reminder. “And I chose you.”

Derek remains quiet for the longest time. Stiles is shivering from the cold air flowing right into his room. Eventually though, that smirk grows into a weak smile.

“That may be a good tip for your Secret Santa,” he shrugs before dropping himself off the ledge.


	8. Jewelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 8: Lydia drags Stiles along to the mall where Stiles struggles to find a gift for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Come to think of it, Stiles pretty much fulfilled one of his dreams today when he parked his Jeep outside the town’s mall and Lydia Martin jumped out of the passenger seat, looping an arm through his as they walked toward the entrance.

A lot of things had changed since he’d had that dream and it doesn’t feel anything more than it really is; two friends out shopping.

It had taken quite some time, but once they’d started to develop an actual friendship, the big and unhealthy crush he’d had on her had gradually faded away. Bonus points for Jackson who isn’t as much of a douche bag as he used to be, making Stiles’ life ten times easier. Sometimes Lydia would even reject her boyfriend’s suggestion to have a date night and instead hang out with Stiles.

This is one of those times and unlike most of them, it doesn’t involve werewolf mythology or homework.

In Stiles’ opinion, going Christmas shopping the first week of December was way too early, but Lydia hadn’t given him the chance to argue.

“This is still a bad idea,” he complains once they’re standing in the entrance hall. “I have no idea what I’m looking for. This Secret Santa thing sucks.”

Lydia gasps as if he offended  _her_ , slapping him lightly on the arm.

“Stop moaning about it and start thinking! It can’t be  _that_  hard.” Her red painted lips pulls up in a steady smile. “What does he like? Or she,” she adds with a shrug, pulling at his arm to get them walking in a slow pace.

Stiles pull a face, pretty much wishing he’d gotten  _anyone_  in the group except Derek. “I don’t know,” he groans.

“How about a puppy?” Lydia suggests sarcastically.

“He’s already got enough of those,” he stops with a horrified gasp and slaps a hand over his mouth, knowing full well he just gave everything away. He can never leave things unsaid, can he? He swears and slowly removes his hand. ”I just ruined it, didn’t I?”

Lydia smiles and waves his worry away. “Relax. At least now we can finally stop acting like neither of us knows who we’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

“Wait…,” he draws the word out as her words finally catch up to him. “did you know from the start that I got Derek?” He narrows his eyes in suspicion while Lydia smirks mysteriously. “Do you ever play fair?”

Should have known she’d figure it out.

“Only if I feel like it,” she shrugs before grabbing his arm again. “Come on, Little Red. We need to find him the perfect present. How about a sense of humor?”

Stiles groans at the nickname; he isn’t even wearing the damn thing, but otherwise doesn’t comment as he allows Lydia to drag him around.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Stiles finds himself in a jewelry shop. Lydia is all over the place, hands and nose pressed against every glass cabinet in the room. No matter how hard he’d tried to remind her they were not here to buy things for themselves, she’d insisted on taking a quick look around.

Clearly they had different definitions of ‘quick’.

And because he’s a gentleman, he holds her bags while she flits about the shop. It’s strictly forbidden for him to take a peek inside though because he isn’t allowed to know who gifts are for. Judging by the amount of it coming from Macy’s, however, Stiles is pretty sure she broke the no-buying-for-ourselves rule.

Personally, he hasn’t bought anything yet.

He browses the shop, eyes absently sweeping over the collection of rings, earrings, bracelets and whatnot; there’s not much else to do, right? He’d been in here once before, when buying birthday gifts for Lydia several months ago, but now he’s zero interest in shiny little things.

Yet he stops dead in his tracks when his eyes land on one item in particular, hanging on the wall among some of the less shiny accessories.

A necklace; except not the type a woman would wear. It’s a thin silver chain with a pendant of the head of a wolf with it’s head lowered in a glaring position, holding a ring between its teeth. Being the geek that he is, he knows it’s the exact design seen in Final Fantasy, the badge Cloud wears on his shoulder.

Funny thing is Cloud’s not the first thing that pops into his head when he first noticed it.  _Derek_  is.

So when Lydia returns to him, setting her bags on the floor and the wolf necklace is in Stiles’ hands, she gives him a judging look and says, “A necklace?”

“If you have any better ideas, I’m all ears,” Stiles defends. “Besides… this is great.”

He’s even feeling the urge to wear it himself, which is weird, because he never wanted to before. But as long as he somehow manages to convince Derek to wear it, he’s fine with that. He wouldn’t mind seeing it around the Alpha’s neck instead of his own.

And then there’s the collar jokes.


	9. Downtown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 9: The pack heads downtown to be surrounded by Christmas lights and somehow Stiles and Derek wanders off by themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Zombiewretch](http://zombiewretch.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/) & [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

Sunday evening, Stiles and Danny are standing on the square downtown, and even if it’s only seven pm, the sky is pitch black. The town is lit by the many lengths of Christmas lights wriggling like snakes around every nearby trees, benches and rooftops.

Christmas decorations adorned every shop windows and Stiles asks himself why people are even allowed to dress in red the remaining 11 months because there sure is enough of it this time of the year.

Along with most people in Beacon Hills, they had come to check out the decorations – as if they looked any different than last year.

The members of the pack scattered every which way when they’d all arrived together, but Stiles had remained where he was with Danny next to one of the fires; his dad was probably maintaining order with his deputies nearby.

Erica and Boyd appear to their left, standing apart from the crowd by their lack of warm clothing. They’re nudging each other in the sides and Stiles can’t help but wonder why they don’t just hold hands and be done with it. Even without the others’ super senses he can tell they want to.

“So,” Erica says once the four of them are standing together. “Have you two done your duties as Secret Santa yet?”

Danny sighs. “I haven’t figured out what to get mine yet.”

“I have!” Stiles sings. “Though I hated it at the time, I’m kind of glad Lydia dragged me to the mall yesterday. I’m all set; ready to rock n’ roll.”

“Oh, good,” Erica smiles. “Guess neither of you got Derek then. What a pain that must be!”

“Or Isaac,” Boyd adds. “Pretty sure he’s a tough one, too.”

Stiles swallows and tries to huff all nonchalant like just as Scott and Allison show up and join their little circle.

“Well, I better head back home,” Erica says. “Unlike some lucky wolves, I still gotta appear perfectly human to my parents. Seriously, Scott. I don’t get how you kept it up for so long.”

“He had me,” Stiles grins proudly and puffs out his chest. 

Scott wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“That I did,” he agrees.

Boyd and Erica leave the group with a backwards wave and head home. They don’t get very far however when Jackson and Lydia round the corner and Jackson grabs both of their arms and brings them to a halt.

“Don’t,” he says low and calmly. “Do that.”

“Do what?” Boyd frowns.

“The ‘rising heartbeat game’,” Jackson clarifies, giving them both a significant look. “Don’t go around asking everyone about Secret Santa. You’ll ruin it for everyone.”

“It’s already ruined,” Erica insists, offering a smile at Lydia. “Not that anyone is complaining.”

Jackson huffs and let’s go of the pair. As they disappear down the street, Lydia leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Told you.”

It turns out most people head home around this time.

Derek and Isaac join them by the fire just as Jackson offers Danny a ride home. He decline, saying he’d rather walk. Isaac decides to tag along since Derek isn’t ready to leave just yet, and he’s got nowhere else to go but his house. Allison got a text from her dad and Scott agrees to give drive her back.

“Stiles, you coming?” He asks just as he’s about to leave with her.

Stiles shrugs, hands still tucked away in his pockets. “Thanks, but…, my dad’s out late tonight so I’ll just hang out here for a bit longer.”

Stiles and Derek are left alone together by the fire, the last of the couples taking their leave.

For some unspeakable reason, they start walking down one of the sidewalks in companionable silence. Stiles isn’t sure if they’re heading home or further into town; to be honest, he can’t even recall where this road even leads.

He blames the new Christmas decorations, of course. (It’s like a whole new world, how the hell is he supposed to orient himself?) But in all honesty, what holds his attention the most is Derek walking beside him. Despite the Alpha not being as grumpy or isolated as he once was, it’s still surprising to see him agree to head into town where actual people go. Stiles understands it must be different now with a new a pack. Wolves are rarely alone by choice.

“That’s why you almost turned down my invitation, wasn’t it?” Derek glances at him in confusions and he clarifies in a rush. “I mean, you know, because you used to be with your own family on Christmas and…”

He can’t figure out how to end that well enough so he lets the sentence hang awkwardly in the air between them. He figures there’s no need for further explanation; that night three days ago when he’d stumbled across Derek in the woods had ended with an understanding between the two of them.

“It never crossed my mind when I came to see you earlier this week,” Stiles admits. “I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek rumbles, and it actually sounds like he means it. “I’ve had enough time to mourn. I have a pack again and it’s time to start living in the present. Let go of the past.” He meets Stiles’ gaze. “ _You_  reminded me of that.”

Stiles is left speechless, running his tongue over his dry lips as they keep walking.

Neither of them speak for another good 15 minutes before Derek finally suggests they head back to his car and leave. Stiles is shaking like a leaf by then and Derek rolls his eyes at him, stating he couldn’t be anything but skin and bones. Stiles doesn’t argue with that and maybe it’s all just his brain getting fuzzy from the cold, but he’s pretty sure Derek walks closer to him on the way back.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

Boyd’s soft voice catches Erica off guard and she curses herself for being the worst werewolf ever. She should have been able to smell him in her room long before he could even open his mouth.

Boyd seems to be reading her mind as always.

“Really?” he says, tapping his nose.

He leans back against the wall from his spot on the bed and gives a lopsided smirk.

“Well,” Erica says, hoping to save the situation. “To be fair almost everything in here smells like you.”

Boyd smiles, his private smile that Erica loves.

She feels the tension melt from her shoulders. “So what are you doing here? I thought sneaking into bedrooms was a Derek thing.”

“Who did you get for Secret Santa?” Boyd asks and Erica’s hackles are up again in an instant.

She narrows her eyes at him. “You know I can’t tell you.”

“You too, huh?” He says, smile blossoming into a grin.

Erica knows how she must smell right now or at least she knows how she feels; like a confused little kid that’s done something right but doesn’t know what. 

“What, you’ve asked more people?” She says and raises her eyebrows as she moves over to her bed, sitting down next to Boyd and taking his hand in hers.

“No I mean the fact that you got me.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask how several people could have gotten him for Secret Santa before she understands.

“I’m your Secret Santa, too.”

Boyd simply nods.

“How could you tell?” she asks curiously.

Boyd raises their linked hands and places Erica’s gently over his heart. “Your heartbeat. It sped up. I made a guess.”

“Sneaky little thing, aren’t you,” Erica laughs and pushes Boyd down on the bed, slotting herself next to him, fitting against him in a way she never has before and never wants to with anyone else.

“So, you think the whole thing is rigged? Like, Allison and Scott got each other, too?” She asks after a moment of silence.

Boyd hums an affirmative, stroking her arm. They haven’t even taken off their shoes and she feels more comfortable than ever. “That also means Danny and Isaac, and…”

“… Derek and Stiles,” Erica says, gaping at Boyd. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

Boyd shrugs. “Well, any of those four could have gotten each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stiles and Danny were matched or Derek and Isaac so he can finally get a sense of belonging. But what I’m really curious about is: why bother? I doubt Lydia would do this for any of those guys. Stiles, maybe, but…,”

Erica hums and closes her eyes. “Don’t really care. I still think it’ll be good for the pack.”

Boyd, as if once again reading her mind, grips her tighter. They’ve both been longing for a strong, functional family.

“We’ll get there in the end,” he says quietly, kissing the crown of her head.

Erica can feel the truth of that in the beat of his heart, still pumping steadily underneath their joined hands. If he believes it, then that’s all she needs to as well. 


	10. Tree Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 10: Stiles and Derek take a trip in the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Ali](http://heylittle-bigman.tumblr.com/)

 

“So I’ve been thinking…,”

Derek sighs. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Wow, cliché werewolf. That one never gets old,” Stiles mutters.

He bounces up the front steps of the rebuilt Hale house to stand in front of Derek whose feet are propped up on the banister with a book in his hands. Stiles can’t see the title, but he’d bet his jeep it’s a classic.

“This thing I’ve been thinking,” he pauses for effect, even goes so far as a drum roll as Derek takes his sweet time to look from the book and up at Stiles, “We should get a tree.”

The bewildered stare he gets isn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Maybe an enthusiastic, “Wow, Stiles! That’s a great idea!” but this is Derek and Derek doesn’t do enthusiastic so he’ll settle for the confused puppy look.

“Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Derek asks, eyebrows rising as he sets the book on the porch.

“No!” Derek looks even more confused so Stiles elaborates exasperatedly, “I mean,  _yes_ , obviously we should get a tree. But I mean actually go-out-in-the-woods-and-get-a-tree not go-to-the-store-and-get-a-tree.” 

Derek continues to stare silently at him, like if he just keeps quiet maybe Stiles will give up and go home, but they both know it’s a lost cause so Derek rolls his eyes and pushes to his feet.

“Fine, let me grab my jacket.”

Stiles lets out a belated, “Wait,  _what?_ ” before Derek slams the door in his face, leaving Stiles alone on the porch with an open mouth and flaily arms as he tries to decipher Derek’s meaning.

He doesn’t have to wait long; Derek comes back out and jumps off the porch, completely bypassing the perfectly fine stairs in favor of showing off.

“Where are we going? I think you misinterpreted what I was saying a couple minutes ago,” Stiles suggests, jogging to keep with Derek as he leads the way into the forest behind his house.

Derek pauses to let him catch up. “You want a tree, right?” At Stiles’ eager nod, he says, “I’m getting you a tree.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open and Derek smirks like leaving Stiles speechless is the most rewarding thing in life ever. “I didn’t mean-“

Derek doesn’t give him time to finish, just grabs his hoodie and pulls him stumbling along. “Pick your favorite.”

Stiles grouches and grumbles for a few moments before letting a small, private smile curl across his face. Sometimes Derek can be an asshole, but there are moments like this where Stiles realizes how great he is once he lets the mask drop.

He takes a moment to look around before shaking his head. “Let’s keep going.”

Derek never once complains or gets annoyed by Stiles’ insistent pursuit of the right tree, just walks along beside him and offers some suggestions of his own.

They’re about ten minutes in before the frigid winter air really hits Stiles and he shakes all over, his teeth chattering away like a woodchuck. He’d left his jacket at home, the one his dad got him, because he hadn’t expected Derek to drag him into the woods right then and there.

His flimsy sweatshirt wasn’t doing much, the wind whipping right through it, but he tucked his arms close to his chest for warmth and kept his head bent low against the chill.

Derek heaves a breath and shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it in Stiles’ direction and well, that was just plain rude.

“Dumb werewolves and their stupid body heat,” he snipes, yanking the jacket off his head and holding it out like it had personally offended him as he stops to point angrily at Derek. “Do I look like a damn coat rack?”

Derek glares at him. “You’re supposed to put it on, idiot.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and okay, maybe he is an idiot. “Oh, uh…,”

At Derek’s pointed look, he hurriedly shoves his arms inside the nice, not to mention  _insanely_  warm, jacket and breathes a sigh of content. Stiles zips it up nice and tight, the leather a bit clingy but it’s a welcome relief.

He completely misses the smile Derek hides, too busy snuggling up to his jacket to notice, but that’s okay. Derek doesn’t want Stiles to ruin the moment with his usual smug grin and idiotic exclamations that something Stiles did made him smile, even if it were true.

“All set. Let’s go,” Stiles marches ahead and Derek follows like a dutiful soldier.

“Thanks, you know. For the, uh, jacket,” Stiles murmurs after a comfortable silence reigns over them.

Derek shrugs and nods, doesn’t get a word in even if he wanted to because suddenly Stiles is pulling up short, pointing to a small, barely there, pine tree.

“That’s it! That’s the perfect tree.”

They head over to check it out, but Derek doesn’t see how great it is. “It’s kind of small.”

Stiles’ blinding smile seizes Derek’s heart in a painful beat and Derek would literally run through fire as long as Stiles kept looking at him like that.

“That’s what  _makes_ it perfect. It sets it apart from all the other giant trees. It’s lonely, Derek, come on. We have to have him.”

Derek doesn’t say what he’s thinking; the “Anything you want, it’s yours. You don’t even have to ask” is just too sappy and fuck, when did he go from Big Bad Alpha to Sentimental Idiot?

Stiles takes Derek’s silence as confirmation and whoops long and loud and neither of them are prepared for the hug Stiles instinctively initiates. It’s awkward and a bit uncomfortable, but they’re not complaining.

Stiles pulls away after a moment, coughing awkwardly and looking away to hide his blush as he whips out his phone.

“Who are you calling?”

Stiles doesn’t answer just holds up a finger as the phone rings.

“Hey, Scott? Gather the pack and meet us at Derek’s, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Scott answers. “What’s going on?”

Stiles ignores his question and grins up at Derek. “Oh, and bring a chainsaw, too.”

He hangs up before Scott’s incredulous, “A chainsaw!?” shatters his eardrums and shoves his phone into the pocket’s of Derek’s jacket.

“Come on, Santa Wolf. We have a tree to chop!”


	11. Hot Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 11: Stiles is sick and it’s all Derek’s fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Oolongteamix](http://oolongteamix.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Stiles is sitting at the kitchen table with of a cup of warm tea cradled in his palms when he hears someone knock on the front door. He grunts softly, feeling his entire body ache as he attempts to stand and make his way out to the hallway.

He blinks in rapid succession to get the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing his painfully cold fingers together before reaching out to grab the door handle.

Derek’s frowned face remains motionless even after the door has swung open an a unusually pale Stiles is revealed. He reaches out to grab Stiles’ jaw to tilt his head to the side, as if to inspect him.

“You’re sick,” he firmly states.

“Hello to you too,” Stiles smiles tiredly, wriggling loose from Derek’s grip and shuddering from the cold air seeping through his sweatpants and hoodie at the same time. “And yeah,” he adds. “It’s just a fever, but… I’m not feeling too hot.”

“But you are.”

“W-what?” Stiles stammers.

“Your forehead,” Derek clarifies, making a nodding gesture. “It’s hot.”

“Oh.  _Oh_ , right.” He scoffs. “Yeah, I’m a hot mess.” Derek briefly rolls his eyes. “And sorry for the smell. Scott couldn’t stand it either.”

But unlike Scott – who’d been over this morning before school but had been too disturbed by the scent of Stiles’ sickness that he had to leave soon after arriving– Derek doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he walks right past Stiles and steps into the house like he owns the place.

Stiles is all too happy to close the door.

He walks back into the kitchen with Derek silently following, not sure how much effort he should put into being a good host in his current state.

He retreats to his chair and folds his legs underneath him, wrapping his hands around his still hot mug in a vain attempt at warmth. His jaw clenches, trying not to chatter his teeth too much as both hot and cold rush through his system in a confusing mess.

Derek sits in the unoccupied chair opposite him, comfortably slouching with hands tucked inside the pockets of his jacket. His eyes sweep over the room, but eventually fall permanently on Stiles.

The boy refuses to look up to meet his gaze however and keeps staring down into his tea for a short moment of silence.

“So why did you come knocking on my front door?” He finally asks.

“You weren’t in your room,” Derek says simply, as if it were the most natural thing to say. And for Derek, it’s pretty bad how accurate that is. 

“Fair enough,” Stiles concedes. “I mean, why are you here in the first place? Just dropping by for a nice little chat?”

Derek shifts in his chair, drawing Stiles’ attention away from his cup long enough to notice Derek’s obvious discomfort.

“I had a feeling.”

Stiles frowns. ”You had a  _feeling_  about me being sick and helpless?”

“I don’t question my instincts,” Derek mumbles, almost sounding defensive.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, raising one hand in a sign of peace. “Your instincts are fine. I like your instincts. I bet they’ve even–”

“Would it kill you to shut up?” He cocks an eyebrow at him in a frustrated gesture.

“Yes,” Stiles says without hesitation.

“Prove it,” Derek challenges, doing that thing with his eyebrows that makes him look smug as hell.

Stiles purses his lips and averts his gaze from the man in front of him.

The silence lasts for nearly a minute before Stiles groans and gives Derek a significant look.

“See? Awkward silence. This is what I fight against.”

“It doesn’t have to be awkward,” Derek claims.

“It  _is_  awkward.”

“Only because you make it so.”

Stiles sighs and shakes his head in defeat. Another short moment of silence pass by before he breaks it again.

“This is all your fault, by the way. Me being sick. If you hadn’t dragged me out in the woods yesterday–”

“It was  _your_  idea,” Derek counters.

“I didn’t expect you to go for it right then and there. I didn’t even bring my jacket!”

“I gave you mine.”

“You’re ruining my point,” he whines pitifully.

“You’re an idiot.”

But there’s a sort of fondness in the insult and it has Stiles thrown so far off his game that he doesn’t have a witty comeback. Instead he drops eyes back to the untouched tea before him.

He’s suddenly hyper aware of his heart beating a little faster than it did before and he’s too concentrated on making it stop to notice the thoughtful expression on Derek’s face.

After another silence – the longest yet – Derek rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair. As he walks over to Stiles’ side of the table, he slips casually out of his leather jacket and puts it around the boy’s shoulders.

Stiles inhales sharply at the warmth surrounding him as he looks up into Derek’s eyes.

“Again?” He asks, throat uncomfortably dry. “Really?”

“You need it more than I do,” Derek answers with a shrug. “I’ll come back for it later. Besides…” He grins weakly. “It suits you.”

Stiles scoffs, unable to tell whether it’s just the fever being a pain or if he’s actually blushing.

Derek lets his eyes remain glued to his for a short time before turning around and leaving the house.


	12. What Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 12: Stiles finally racks up the nerves to tell Scott about his feelings for Derek and things don’t exactly go according to plan. Meanwhile, Isaac and Allison are at the mall shopping for gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/) & [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

It’s Friday afternoon and the classrooms of Beacon Hills High School are abandoned by eager teenagers on their way back home to start the weekend.

Scott and Stiles are strolling through a corridor on their way back to their lockers at a much slower pace than the rest of the student body. Three people pass by wearing Santa hats and Scott chuckles at the sight of them, but it fades when his eyes lands on Stiles’ thoughtful expression.

“You okay?” He asks, and Stiles seems to be pulled back to the present. “You look like Danny on Election Day.”

Stiles scoffs and tries to shrug it off, but the silence that follows doesn’t mean his friend dropped the subject; he’s waiting for him to answer the question. You can’t get away with lying to a werewolf, Stiles knows that. He’s sick of lying, anyway. Not only to the people around him, but also to himself. And if he can’t even rely on his best friend, then who?

“Hey Scott,” he starts lowly as they turn a corner and finally spot their lockers on the other end. It’s loud around them, but Scott tilts his head to show Stiles he’s listening. He breathes out once again, slowly, before continuing. “What was it like… falling in love with Allison?”

His voice is quiet and by the lack of reaction from Scott has Stiles believing Scott didn’t actually hear him. But then he cocks an eyebrow at him when they reach their lockers and deftly turns in the combination.

“Why do you ask?”

Stiles’ lips purse as he opens his own locker. His heartbeat is speeding up when the realization of what he’s about to say washes through him.

It still feels so unreal, even to him. Letting Scott in on it, saying it out loud, will only make it twice as real.

“Because I might be just a little bit attracted to someone.” He pauses there at first, but figures the last part is excruciatingly vital to this particular conversation. “Someone who’s  _not_  the opposite sex.”

Scott calmly grabs his backpack from inside his locker and closes it before looking at Stiles. “I thought we’d covered that already?”

“I  _know_ ,” Stiles says almost frantically. “I know, but it’s not  _that_. It’s…” He rolls his eyes at himself and slams the locker shut. “It’s not just  _anyone_.”

Scott sighs, but it almost sounds like a chuckles as they fall in next to each other again, blurring into the stream of students trying to escape the building.

“This is about Derek, isn’t it?”

Stiles feels his heart flutter and blushes when he spots Isaac up ahead of them. He swears the guy actually turns his head and throws him the weirdest look  _ever._

Werewolf’s, man, jeez.

“I’m not sure I want to know how you knew that,” he mumbles to Scott. “Or how  _long_  you’ve known that.” He sees Isaac smile knowingly before his eyes dart quickly away and Stiles slaps himself on the forehead for being so stupid. “God, the whole pack knows, doesn’t it?”

“Yup,” Scott nods, untroubled as ever.

Stiles remains in his own world of shame for a while before he frowns and looks over at his friend.

“Wait, you don’t think it’s weird?”

“Why would I?” Scott wonders.

“Because it’s  _Derek_ ,” Stiles reminds him, heart skipping a beat at the reality of the name. “Your Alpha, leader;  _Jedi Master!_  This doesn’t feel strange to you?” He demands.

“Nope,” responds Scott, a smooth shrug following. “I’m good.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open. “Wow.”

Scott snorts and stops in the hallway to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey. That’s what friends are for, isn’t it? Not to question you, even if what you’re doing is totally insane?”

He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder, drawing some sort of chuckle/sigh from him.

“Thanks,” he mumbles truthfully. Scott’s a shitty friend sometimes, but when he’s not a shitty friend, he’s the best friend in the entire world and Stiles wouldn’t have him any other way.

“I’m only returning the favor,” Scott remarks with a smile, and Stiles can’t argue with that. He chances a glance at the clock on the wall and sighs. “Look,” he says, looking back at Stiles. “I promised I’d go buy my gift for Secret Satna with Danny today so I got to run, but…” He slings on arm around his shoulders and hugs him. “You and Derek are going to be okay. Okay?”

“He’s Derek,” Stiles repeats. “An emotionally wrecked Alpha werewolf. Holy God,” he suddenly moans. “How did this happen?”

Scott laughs softly, squeezing his shoulder fondly.

“Stiles, if anyone is going to be able to tame that wolf,” he says. “It’s you.”

 

* * *

 

Allison sighs and wonders, for the millionth time, why she got stuck with Isaac.

“Isaac. Did you get Lydia or something? The way you’re fussing over this…,”

Isaac frowns, but doesn’t look away from the shelf of ridiculously expensive teddy bears. “I just want to give them a good gift,” he replies softly.

“Alright then. I’ll just.. wait outside.”

Isaac doesn’t even say anything, just waves her off.

Allison curses Derek under her breath and stalks out of the store to sit on a bench outside. Derek was the one who insisted they do everything in pairs. If he could see her now he’d probably flip.

Well, tough luck. Allison is  _bored_. She managed to buy her gift to Scott within an hour whereas Isaac has been wandering between stores for  _four_.

She grabs her phone out of her handbag.

Three unchecked messages from Scott.

_I don’t know how I’m expected to find you a good gift? Any wishes?  
\- scott_

_Nvm found you the perfect gift!! xoxoxo  
_ _-scott_

 _Oh my god Danny is taking forever?  
_ _-scott_

She smiles down at her phone.

 _Isaac too,_  she types.  _I miss you._

 _Miss you too! :( meet up at the house after?_  The reply comes almost immediately.

_Of course._

Allison’s barely pressed ‘send’ before she hears a timid “Allison?” from behind her. She almost drops her cell phone at that, which, well. If her father ever found out a werewolf sneaked up on her, he’d probably flip too.

She turns around curiously. “Yeah?”

Isaac looks fidgety and uncomfortable. “I think I need your help?”

Allison knows Isaac. They may not be the best of friends, but what she knows of Isaac is all confident and fierce so it just hurts so much to see him like this, awkward and uneasy, as if he’s worried he doesn’t belong. The way he must have been before the pack.

“What do you need?” Allison asks and damn it, she’s not even a little bit annoyed anymore.

“I don’t know what to get… them,” Isaac confesses.

“I’m not sure how I can help? If it’s that important, which I’m guessing it really is, tell me about them. But don’t give away too much!” 

“Well… I really just. I guess I want to tell them that I can relate.”

“To what?” Allison questions. She tries not to smile at how nervous Isaac looks.

“How they feel. To show them that I… I know what it feels like, thinking you’re not part of anything, or like you don’t belong.”

Allison has to give it to Isaac, that could be so many different people in their merry band of misfits that she won’t be able to figure out who it is and oh boy does she feel bad for being annoyed earlier.

“I want to tell them that even though they think they aren’t doing much for the group, they really are. And that I can relate,” Isaac continues. 

“Of course I’ll help you!” Allison’s heart is melting into a puddle on the floor as she throws her arms around a surprised Isaac.


	13. The Geminids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 13: Whose brilliant idea was it to watch the stars anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Sphesphe](http://sphesphe.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

He’s not sure whose brilliant idea it was, but one moment Stiles is sitting comfortably on Derek’s couch and the next, he’s being pushed out of the house with the whole pack, not even getting the chance to grab his jacket and gloves.

It’s freaking cold outside and people want to  _watch the stars?_

Stiles doesn’t care about stars. He cares about keeping the feeling in his fingertips.

“They say there’s supposed to be some shooting stars tonight,” Jackson informs as they all walk a bit further away from the house, aiming for another clearing up ahead. He’s got both hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket with Lydia clinging to one of his arms.

“How does one predict star shooting anyway?” Scott questions. He’s walking hand in hand with Allison who looks positively adorable, snuggled up nice and warm next to her goddamn werewolf boyfriend while Stiles freezes his ass off.

“The hell am I supposed to know?” Jackson snorts while Lydia sighs loudly next to him.

“It’s the Geminids,” she says it as if it should be the most obvious thing ever. She rolls her eyes in disappointment when several heads turns to her in confusion. “The meteor shower? The  _yearly_  meteor shower in mid-December?”

“Shush,” Jackson murmurs softly, stopping in the clearing to pull her close. “I like you better when you’re quiet.” She giggles when he places a delicate kiss on her nose.

“Me too,” admits Danny, standing next to Isaac. “Then the rest of us won’t look so dumb.”

They all chuckle in agreement before lifting their gazes to the starry sky above. Even Stiles has to admit it’s gorgeous. It is indeed a perfect night for stargazing with no clouds or streetlights messing up their view. The sky is pitch black with millions of sparkling diamonds forming familiar shapes.

They stand in total silence and admire the sight for quite a while.

Stiles tries to keep his jaws tightly clenched together to keep from chattering his teeth like an old typing machine. He’s got his arms folded tight over his chest, hands shoved underneath his armpits because the long sleeved shirt at least provides a tiny measure of warmth.

Astonished by how he seems to be the only one minding the lack of degrees, he glances around.

Jackson has his arms wrapped around Lydia, resting his chin on the top of her head. Scott stands with one arm holding Allison’s waist while she burrows into his side. Boyd and Erica are holding hands even though neither of them should be suffering from the cold and Danny stands leaning on Isaac’s side, neither of them bold enough to cross the line just yet. But it seems like, for now, just standing next to Isaac is enough for Danny to shut out the rest of the world.

Stiles is just about to turn his head further and locate the last member of the pack when he hears someone stepping up right behind him. He can feel the warm presence curl over the back of his neck and obviously knows it’s Derek.

He remains still, waiting for the Alpha to either speak or move, do what he came here for, but nothing happens.

The others start to mumble between one another, raising their hands to point at the sky and trace the shapes. Stiles keeps his eyes fixed on the stars, but his entire focus is on Derek behind him.

After what feels like an eternity, Stiles gives in to his instincts that have been screaming at him and slowly leans backwards. Even if he knew Derek was there, his heart skips a beat when his shoulder blades collide with the werewolf’s firm chest.

Derek catches his weight as if he were lighter than a feather, and Stiles can’t help but blink slowly and breathe out when the warmth starts spreading through the fabric of their clothes and onto Stiles’ skin. His heart beats steady and hard in his chest and maybe just a little too fast, but he doesn’t have the energy to care. He knows all the wolves – Derek included – can hear the rise of his pulse, but right now he just thinks:  _let them._

“Hey, look!” Erica suddenly exclaims, flopping her arms frantically.

Stiles tilts his head back to see to where she’s pointing, letting his head rest against Derek’s chest. The leather on his jacket sends a shiver down his spine that has nothing to do with the cold when the leather brushes the back of his neck in a tiny caress.

The night sky is lit up in shooting stars: the meteor shower.

“My God, it’s beautiful!” Allison says in awe.

“Make a wish, guys,” reminds Danny.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just stays where he is in the back of the group with Derek supporting him.

But he  _does_  make a wish while listening to the steady rhythm of Derek’s heartbeat – for once close enough for him to hear. He wishes that, before Christmas is over, he’ll find the courage to face what exactly is going on between the two of them.


	14. Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 14: Boyd and Erica go Christmas shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

“Come  _on_ , it’ll be fun!” Erica insists, pulling lightly on his forearm.

Boyd is still resistant to the idea. “No, it won’t.”

They’re standing on Boyd’s porch and Erica is trying to get him to go Christmas shopping for the Secret Santa exchange with her. Normally he’d jump on the chance to get to spend time with someone away from home, but he’d kind of wanted Erica’s gift to be a surprise.

“It won’t,” Erica admits, letting go of his arm, “But at least it’ll be out of the way.”

“What’s the point of doing it at all if we see each other’s gifts?” He frowns.

“Aw, come on grumpy. I won’t look if you don’t. Now come  _on_ , let’s go!”

“Fine, just let me get my keys,” Boyd grumbles.  


* * *

  
  
They don’t speak during the car ride over to the mall, but Erica has the radio turned on and the volume up and she’s not too shy to sing along even if she sings off-key. 

Boyd doesn’t mind. He’s had enough of empty silences.

Erica keeps speculating excitedly about the others and what gifts they’ll buy as he parks the car and they enter the mall. Boyd gets away with saying the bare minimum, but once they’re in the mall Erica demands a bit more verbal participation.

“Where do you wanna go?” Erica impatiently asks.

Had they been human Boyd would never have been able to hear her over the roaring, crowded mall, but as a werewolf he didn’t have a problem hearing anything. 

“I don’t know,” Boyd shrugs. “You pick.” No way was he ruining the surprise by walking straight into the right store.

Suddenly Erica was in front of him, gently taking his hand in hers. 

Her smile is all Boyd can see, the feel of her skin against his is all Boyd can feel and  his heart jumps in response.

“Come on,” Erica says brightly. “I know just what to get you.”

And yeah.

Maybe Boyd is a bit in love. He’s okay with that.  


* * *

  
  
“Bit too much?” Erica murmurs, heart sinking when she sees Boyd’s raised eyebrows.

“Now I know what you really needed me here for,” Boyd teases but grabs a bunch of paper bags dutifully. “You just keep me around for my strong arms and pretty face.”

“Oh, please. I’ve got the arms myself,” Erica says absentmindedly. Her eyes are already scanning the mall for the next clothing store.

“And the face?” Comes Boyd’s amused voice behind her. 

Erica can feel her heart skip a beat and a blush beginning to form. She doesn’t know how to respond because…

“Relax,” Boyd’s shoulder bumps hers as he comes to stand beside her. “It’s never a chore hanging out with you, you know that.”

Erica manages to croak out a weak affirmative.

“What do you think Jackson will get for Lydia?” Boyd asks, seeming more interested in the food court than anything else. 

“Something stupid,” Erica says.

She’s relieved to have some sense of direction as she sets course for Pizza Hut. 

Boyd manages to sense her general disinterest in the conversation and doesn’t push it further. He’s still walking next to her when some jackass barrels right into her other side, taking most of the bags with him as he falls down.

“Watch it!” she snaps, moving to pick up the bags.

“Sorry, princess- _Erica?_ “ 

That’s… someone from the Lacrosse team, right? Erica’s head whips around and she stares incredulously as this fucking asshole she doesn’t even know crouches back down and sneaks a peek at the contents of the bag closest to him.

He lets out an appreciative whistle as his eyes flicker from the clothes to Erica and back again. 

“You sure these will even fit?” he says with a leer.

She’s one second away from decking the guy when Boyd appears, out of nowhere, and elbows him in the face. His eyes flash gold.

“Jesus christ, man!” shouts the sleazebag from what appears to be his destined position on the floor. People are starting to look at their little party.

Erica moves to pick up the bags she dropped, giving the guy a grin that’s all teeth before grabbing Boyd by the arm and dragging him away.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she hisses, pulling him through the parking lot.

“Sorry! I really don’t know what- I’m really sorry Erica, of course you can,” and it’s not fair how Boyd can manage to sound so lost. The effect it has on Erica is just not fair.

“Don’t worry about it. Guess now we know I’m the brains and you’re just… supposed to stand around and look pretty.”

She hears his heart skip a beat but a second later comes an indignified “Hey!” she can only laugh at.

What happens next feels completely natural; Erica falls into Boyd’s space like it belonged to her and presses her lips against his in what can only qualify as the worlds greatest kiss ever.

_Awesome._


	15. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 15: Stiles discovers even Alpha werewolves can be afraid of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Stiles shuts the door behind Scott, smiling to himself when figuring he would have squeezed his friend’s tail in the door, if he’d had one. The dull sound of the door going shut and the fading footsteps of the teenagers walking down the street is the last sound to reach his ears before a long-absent silence falls heavily over the house. It’s nearly a shocking change from all the platter that had been going on for hours.

As usual they had seized the opportunity of the Sheriff working late at the station and claimed the house as hide-out spot for the pack. Even with the Hale house renovated to the point where Stiles no longer feared falling through the floor, the place still got a bit chilly at night. And since tonight Lydia had required a snuggle-up-in-front-of-the-fireplace night - and Derek had not yet get the one in the Hale house going - they had moved to the Stilinski resident.

It was always great to be surrounded by people Stiles could, these days, call his friends, but at the moment it feels pretty good to have them all out of the house.

All but one.

Derek is still sitting with his muscular arms slung around his knees, legs half-way pulled up against his chest. His eyes are fixed on the fire and only flicker up to Stiles as he re-enters the living room. The leather jacket is still hanging on the rack by the door, and his exposed arms are lit up in the warm light of the fire. His hair is still a bit tousled after Boyd had ruffled it, telling him to ease up, with some straws of hair standing out of place.

Part of Stiles wants to ask him why he’s still there, but the other part fears that if he does, Derek might leave. So he remains quiet, keeping his lips tightly pressed together as he sits down next to the man on the carpet.

“Didn’t want to,” Derek rumbles, breaking the silence. It takes Stiles a frowning second to realize he must have somehow sensed the unspoken question. “Leave,” Derek adds when noticing Stiles’ confusion. “Didn’t want to leave.”

And to that Stiles can only nod, feeling his heart flutter a little. Derek wanting to stay doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with him, but Stiles like to think it does.

He sighs deeply, allowing himself to sink into a more comfortable position on the ground. His shoulder brushes Derek’s for a brief moment and Stiles feels as if he just pressed his side up against a radiator.

If rewinding a few months back in time, this situation would have had Stiles wincing away with fear. But a lot of things have changed since then, including what went through his head whenever he accidentally touched an Alpha werewolf.

His eyelids fall shut almost mechanically as that warmth enters his system. Even with a long-sleeved plaid shirt on, sitting in front of an open fire, the room still feels chilly. Just looking at Derek’s bare arms makes him shudder.

He blinks slowly a few times before grunting and leaning forward to throw some more firewood into the dancing flames. The fire roars and grows in strength for a second, but Stiles reacts more to how Derek flinches at his side.

He looks back over his shoulder with a wondering frown.

Derek doesn’t meet his eyes, keeping his stare fixed on the fire. It’s obvious that whatever just happened, he’d like to pretend it didn’t.

“What is it?” Stiles asks carefully, leaning back again. When Derek remains both motionless and silent, Stiles lets his shoulder touch Derek’s again, appearing more like a nudge than anything else.

Derek mumbles something unreadable, but Stiles figures they might just be animalistic sounds he makes to stay in character. He barely reacts to them anymore though, so used to Derek’s empty threats which usually ends in them saving each other’s lives. That’s probably why Derek eventually gave up, dropped the shield and let him in.

“I don’t feel… comfortable… around it.” He speaks in a low voice, still avoiding Stiles’ questioning gaze. “Not… confident.”

“What?” Asks Stiles, who had a hard time imagining Derek scared or insecure of anything.

It takes a while before Derek answers, but once he does, Stiles realizes he should’ve seen it coming.

“Fire.”

The one thing that had wiped out his whole family. The one smell filling the house when it was all too late. Suddenly Stiles can picture Derek avoiding fire for the last 10 years and Stiles, more than any one they know, can relate. He overcame his own fear years ago, but only because Scott forced him to the hospital to see his mom countless times. Derek hadn’t had any reason to face fire again after what happened and from what Stiles had learnt about phobias, that only made things worse.

“Well,” he offers weakly. “This is safe.” He gestures toward the fireplace. “Unless I manage to somehow set myself on fire, that is.”

“Don’t…” Derek murmurs, slowly turning to look him properly in the eyes. “… Say that.”

Stiles blinks, studying Derek’s expression in the light of the fire. With his head turned to him, it casts a shadow that covers half his face, allowing him to see his eyes glow.

The frown on Derek’s forehead is not made by anger this time. It’s concern – something Scott once stated the Alpha being incapable of showing yet Stiles kept disagreeing.

Because he’s seen it before.

It had been in Derek’s voice when yelling at him over the phone to get out of the hospital the night they found out about Peter. It had been in his eyes when pushing Stiles out of the Kanima’s reach and telling him to run. It was all over Derek’s face now, by the thought of Stiles burning.

“Okay,” Stiles manage to say, not knowing how else to respond.

Derek’s stare darts between Stiles’ two eyes for another moment before turning back to the fire, once again watching the flames with caution. Stiles can practically feel how he’s steeling himself; somehow the fact that Derek is unable to relax bothers him more than anything.

A moment passes by without either of them saying anything, the only sound the crackling of flames and the loud pounding of Stiles’ heart.

When an unusual harsh crackle cuts through the silence, Derek flinches again. And before Stiles barely knows what he’s doing, he reaches over to place his hand on Derek’s arm as if to hold him still.

It’s the same type of touch his dad had given him after his mom died and panic attacks were a daily matter. Just feeling his dad hold onto him like that had made things easier.

He’s just about to withdraw his hand and call himself silly for thinking it would help Derek when Derek’s arm relaxes. Stiles can feel the tensed muscles soften under his palm and instead his own heart rate speeds up. He keeps his eyes on the fire, scared that if he tries to look over at Derek, he might ask him to let go and that’s the last thing he wants.

“I used to be terrified of hospitals,” he mumbles instead. “After my mom died.”

First there’s no reaction, but then he catches Derek opening his mouth as if he’s about to speak, but only makes a hesitant gaping movement before he actually does.

“But not anymore?”

There’s doubt in his voice. Stiles can hear it clear as a bell. Doubt that he’ll ever get rid of his fear like Stiles did and Stiles knows what that’s like. He remembers when he thought his phobia was impossible to overcome, when he felt like puking every time Scott mentioned his mother’s job when they first got to know each other.

“No,” he replies quietly. ”You need time.” Stiles mentally slaps himself; if there’s anything Derek has had, it’s time. “You have to face your demons, you know. I found out hospitals are not only the place where people die. It’s also where Scott’s mom saved a little girl’s life.” He sighs. “Most things are good for something.”

“Fire?” Derek asks lowly.

“It kept humans alive for centuries, didn’t it?” Stiles shrugs. “And it’s keeping me warm right now. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

A few moments pass before Derek glances down to Stiles’ hand gripping his arm. The werewolf’s skin is so warm against his palm, Stiles tightens his grip almost mechanically. It may be imaginary, but he’s pretty sure there’s a light smile tugging at Derek’s mouth.

“Yeah. It does.”


	16. Newborn Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 16: Derek goes out into the woods to confront his feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Wyxan](http://sterekhowla.tumblr.com/)

 

As beads of sweat trickle down his bare chest and his own frantic fingers ruffle through his damp hair, Derek lets out one last grunt before finally giving himself a reprieve. 

The thumping sound of his heart pumping blood through his whole body makes his knees go weak and he has only seconds to catch himself before he falls to the ground in sheer exhaustion.

The lines on his face are tense as he kneels down on the snow covered woods, dropping the heavy ax to his side with a thud and feeling his every muscle sear underneath his trembling skin. Between ragged breaths, Derek has to blink frenetically to clear his eyes of sweat as he tries to control the intense, sullen thoughts that keep trying to drag him six feet under. 

It had dawned on Derek that maybe going out into the forest to chop some more firewood would be the perfect way to release the tension that this whole Christmas extravaganza was beginning to stack up inside of him.

As it turns out, he was right. Unfortunately, this isn’t the main reason why Derek needed an outlet for his ongoing anger; today, he had chosen to face one of his many demons. And this one’s name is Stiles.

When his heart rate finally slows down, Derek tilts his head up to look out into the distance. Hundreds of scrawny trees align as far as the eye can see, some of them rocked gently by a chilly breeze Derek’s werewolf skin couldn’t even feel. The hissing of the wind rings through the silence and a solemn atmosphere surreptitiously settles all around Derek’s immobile figure.

Memories of these past few months rush through his mind by the dozen, as he searches for the moment when everything went terribly awry. 

It’s not about how insanely annoying Stiles can be; it’s not about how he wishes for someone to punch him in the throat every time he opens his mouth. And it’s  _not_  about how life seems to be so desperate to make their paths cross time after time, forcing them into something Derek never, ever asked for.

It is, however, about how, against all odds, Derek has grown to care for him in a way he hasn’t cared for someone since before the fire. Before he forgot what love and safety and trust was. 

During all these years of soul-searching, Derek had never found anyone who could get under his skin as easily and inconspicuously as Stiles had. So much so that when he had realized it, it was already too late.

Derek Hale was falling for someone and there was no turning back. 

For the ten thousandth time that day, his mind struggles to comprehend how completely honest that single statement really is.

While the denial phase has come and gone, the anger is still there, alive and kicking beneath his heaving chest. And he’s angry because somewhere deep under the angst and fear he had felt upon this reckoning, he’d allowed himself a momentary feeling of  _actual_  happiness.

When the reality of the whole ‘feeling happy makes me angry’ shenanigans became something he could somewhat fathom, Derek knows that he’s hit rock bottom of complete self-hatred; and that makes him even more furious.

For now, the only way in Derek’s eyes to escape this oh-so-vicious circle of a never ending shit storm is to pick up his ax and start assaulting some more wood.

So he does. 

Among his frustrated grunts and loud breathing, mingling forcibly with the dull thump of the ax cutting through the logs, the noise of someone approaching a few minutes later doesn’t immediately reach Derek’s ears. If it hadn’t been for the sweet scent of the one person he was mostly trying to avoid drifting across his nose, Derek wouldn’t have known that this wood chopping therapy session was no longer private. 

“Wow,” Stiles gasps when he brings himself to a halt a few feet away from Derek, eyes lingering on his back muscles rippling underneath sweat stained skin. “From a distance, it almost sounded like someone was shooting a porno down here. I guess I wasn’t that far off.”

Derek glances back at him with a snort, but doesn’t stop digging his ax into the wood, a little bit harder each time as he feels his heart beat faster and his hands slip to grasp the tool that much harder.

“Stiles,” he says as greeting, a bit more dryly than intended. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, nothing, just… hanging out. I knocked on your door but no one answered, so I followed the sound of unhindered moaning and… here I am!”

Sadly for him, the only answer Stiles gets is more grunting.

Derek clenches his jaw hard and grinds his teeth as he feels something unfamiliar tug at his guts. He opts for the probably unhealthy decision of disregarding it in favor of pretending to be angry. Trying to face his feelings for Stiles with him around and a heavy bladed weapon in his hands is really not the best idea. 

“Okay…” Stiles winces, his eyes glued to Derek slaughtering more logs by the second than a deforestation machine. “I hope this isn’t some kind of voodoo doll-like ritual, cause if it is… it’s not working. I’m feeling some mild pain in my butt, but I’m pretty sure it’s from all that sitting we did last night.”

Derek inhales more air than humanly possible at the mention of last night’s conversation, reliving the fear and the anxiety, but most importantly, the comfort. The way that Stiles had managed to soothe him with simple words reassuring touch.

The very moment Derek recalls Stiles’ hand on his arm, Stiles steps forward and does it again. 

“Derek, what’s going on?” he whispers, his soft palm landing gently onto Derek’s straining bicep. And just like that, Derek freezes midway, dropping his arms alongside his body and exhaling heavily, getting rid of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

He turns around to face Stiles with a quiet desperation in his eyes. The boy must have picked up on it because after a few seconds of self-explanatory silence, he gives Derek a pat on the arm and smiles. ”Come on, I know what will make you feel better.”

 

* * *

 

“Hot chocolate? What do I look like, a six-year-old?” 

“Shut up and drink,” Stiles orders, looking as bossy as Derek has ever seen him. “You were out there in the cold for hours. Shirtless, I might add! What were you even thinking?”

“You know I can’t get sick, right?” Derek asks, a bit jaded. He’s eyeing the steaming mug Stiles has placed in front of him on the kitchen table like it might grow into an arm of chocolate and drown him at any given moment.

“That’s not the point! Everyone knows you’re a big strong werewolf, you don’t need to go out of your way to prove it,” Stiles continues, acting a bit too much like a scolding parent for Derek’s taste. “You never answered my question, by the way. What were you doing out there?”

“Working on my knitting patterns, what did it look like I was doing?” Derek scowls, glaring at Stiles from across the kitchen.

Stiles shifts from side to side, casually taking a seat on the counter instead of the chair opposite him. Derek wonders for a second if it’s because he’s scared to come closer. 

“Sarcasm is such a bad color on you right now,” Stiles retorts. “I kinda figured you out, you know. The more defensive you get, the more transparent you are to me. So come on, spit it out! You know there’s no way out of this.”

“Would you lay off me for five seconds? God, if I wanted to talk about my problems, I’d go see a therapist!” Derek snaps, about ready to get up and leave Stiles, and all his ridiculously spot-on statements, behind.

“Wait! So you admit that you do have problems. That’s great!” Stiles beams, obviously taking this as a small personal victory. “I mean, it’s not…  _great_  that you have problems… but it’s great that you admit it!” he stumbles over his own choice of words as he so often does and jumps off the counter to instead occupy the empty chair.

“I never said that!” Derek barks, murder evident in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it so just drop it.” 

“Geez, Derek, you sound like a teenage girl hiding a crush or something,” Stiles remarks absently, sporting a yawn he makes absolutely no effort to conceal. 

When no angry put-down follows up, Stiles looks up to find a worried look on Derek’s face and a flare of concern shines in Stiles’ eyes before he manages to conceal it.

He obviously hadn’t been expecting that reaction.

Derek remains still as he clamps his fists shut on top of the table and his silence expresses his emotions better than any words ever could. 

“Derek…,” Stiles ventures and Derek recognizes the pleading tone in his voice; he isn’t joking around anymore. Right here, right now, in this moment, something inside Stiles’ eyes arises and Derek doesn’t know what it is.

But he finds himself enjoying it more than he should.  

His features soften helplessly and it feels like he’s slowly starting to see Stiles with a clear vision; it isn’t foggy or hidden. There’s a confident, almost reassuring spark in them, as if Stiles know that from now on, whatever he chooses to do, Derek won’t turn him down. 

Stiles reaches out across the table to lay his hand over Derek’s fist, which relaxes almost instantly at the touch. A single touch, just like that, and he’s calm in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

His touch which somehow just became their first unspoken declaration. 

“It’s my mother’s recipe, you know,” Stiles murmurs, glancing at the drink sitting untouched between them. “The secret is a pinch of ginger.”

Without another word, Derek grabs the mug and takes a sip, not sure if the warmth that spreads through his body the next second is due to the hot cocoa or the newborn flame that Stiles has just lit.


	17. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 17: Boyd organizes a Christmas movie marathon with the pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Oolongteamix](http://oolongteamix.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

It’s not Derek who orders the pack to gather in the Hale House living room the 17th night of December, but rather Boyd.

According to him, it isn’t a real Christmas unless you watch a bunch of classical Christmas movies and eat buckets of popcorn. Needless to say, Erica and Lydia had agreed wholeheartedly with the idea which left the others with no choice but to give in.

It’s dark outside by the time they all manage to squeeze onto the couch.

Lydia pulls out a set of candles to place on the table from her bag and judging by Jackson’s eye roll and the amused smirk he gives her, it’s probably not the first time she’s taken control of the mood like that.

Jackson’s seated in the right corner of the couch, slouching back with his arm on the side and the other slung over Lydia’s shoulders. She’s comfortably leaning against him, elbow on his thigh and hand resting on his knee, while her other hand absently plays with her hair, eyes fixated on the screen.

Next to her is Allison; legs folded beneath her and back arched as she leans forward. She’s running her fingers through Scott’s dark locks who’s sitting on the floor in front of her, head tipped back into his girlfriend’s lap. He watches the movie through half lidded gaze and Stiles swears that if he were a cat, he’d be purring.

On the floor closest to Scott is Boyd with Erica leaning back against his chest. He has his arms wrapped around her waist, embracing her from behind, while she traces his knuckles with her fingers. Boyd’s chin rests on her shoulder, cheeks brushing just the tiniest bit. Whether they were actually together or not – a question Stiles never got a proper answer to – they seem very comfortable with one another.

To Allison’s left are Isaac and Danny, sides pressed together all the way from their shoulders to their ankles, and Stiles – who sat on the other side of Danny – could only imagine the sexual tension the werewolves had to put up with on a daily basis. (Scott complained about it just last night.)

In the couch’s left corner is Derek. His arms and hands are resting in his lap with his elbow brushing against Stiles’ arm, which were tucked over his chest. Neither of them are wearing more than t-shirts and the skin-on-skin contact keeps Stiles’ attention from the movie more often than he’d like to admit, making it impossible to keep track of what’s happening on-screen.

Things are different between them now. Stiles isn’t sure how it happened exactly, but after the incident with a shirtless Derek furiously chopping woods in the forest yesterday, it feels like one of many walls he’d otherwise would have to climb to get to Derek has been teared apart.

No matter how close Derek had allowed them to grow the last few weeks, deep down Stiles had expected the werewolf to finally snap. Which he did and tried to deal with it by swinging an ax around like a maniac.

He knew there was something in Derek’s eyes whenever their gazes met or their hands touched and it made him happy that he’d found the Alpha when he did yesterday; before he had the chance to sink back into denial. Derek is pretty good at that in general, but Stiles doubts he could handle him doing it with something like this.

Something happened half-way through the first movie that caused everybody to laugh. A smile spreads across Stiles’ face when even Derek chuckles, the vibration of his shoulders causing their arms to slide against one another.

Stiles huffs along with the others, pretending he knew what had been going down on screen, though he had no clue.

When the first movie ends, most people on the couch have shifted positions whereas Stiles has barely moved. But neither has Derek and Stiles takes that as a good sign.

When the credits start rolling and Boyd crawls up to switch to the next movie on the list, Derek heaves a sigh and shifts to rest most of his upper arm in Stiles’ lap.

He knows all the werewolf’s in the room can hear the exact moment his heartbeat ratchets up to a ridiculously loud notch to the point where Stiles thinks Danny, who’s right beside him with his very human ears, can hear it. 

Derek doesn’t make a point of moving away, even if Stiles knows he’s well aware of the exposure to the whole pack of Stiles’ reaction to his touch.

No one says anything and by the time the second movie comes on, Stiles isn’t sure if he’s been breathing through the entire break.

He takes a moment to sink a little deeper into the couch while his arms are still crossed loosely over his chest.

Derek’s elbow is on his stomach now, skin still brushing his every time Stiles inhales.

They stay like that for the first part of the movie – which Stiles manages to be present enough to identify as Love Actually – until his muscles start itching at the lack of motion.

It feels like all eyes are on him when he carefully tips his head to the side to lean on Derek’s shoulder because it’s  _impossible_  to resist the perfect height. For a moment, he can’t even hear what the people in the movie are saying over the too-loud beating of his heart.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, thinking this might have been a bad idea.

Derek doesn’t move for what feels like an entire eternity to Stiles.

The movie, the pack,  _everything_ becomes a silent background noise when Derek’s cheek eventually comes to rest on the top of his head.

Stiles lets out a deep breath as soon as he feels the weight of Derek leaning on him and he can’t recall ever feeling more relieved. A stupid smile is tugging at his lips and he’s happy Derek can’t see it.

He blinks slowly a few times, feels himself relax for the first time tonight against Derek’s side.

Though he manages to keep up with the movie after that, the reality of their situation still hits him every other minute, capturing his focus again.

Derek’s shoulder isn’t exactly soft, it’s just very…  _comfy_. And warm, even if that’s not anything new. Stiles can’t help but snuggle further into the curve of Derek’s neck until he’s got his forehead touching the vein in his neck and can feel Derek’s steady pulse.

The second movie ends, but Stiles is dead asleep.

Jackson’s eyes sweep over the couch while he stretches his arms above his head. “Well, that was an interesting two hours,” he says lightly.

No one knows what exactly he’s referring to.


	18. Tree Decorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 18: The pack finally brings the Christmas tree inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Xandersart](http://xandersart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

It’s late and Lydia won’t stop complain about how they should’ve done this sooner, but on December 19th they finally bring the Christmas tree into the Hale house’s living room to dress it up with the newly bought decorations.

Erica had bought red, yellow and blue tinsel to wrap around it, as a joke for the werewolves’ different eye colors. Jackson rolls his eyes at the sight of it and Scott bursts out laughing, falling off his chair in the process.

There are baubles and other hanging decorations, as well as Christmas lights in various different colors, because Lydia is still set on her quest to make the house appear more colorful.

“Got to make up for our Alpha’s lack of personality, don’t we?” She says with a shrug while thoughtfully hanging baubles on every third twig. “Honestly, the only color he owns is his eyes whenever he gets bossy.”

Said Alpha walks across the room and pretends he doesn’t hear her.

Once all the decorations are in place, the pack withdraws to the kitchen to have some hot chocolate.

The tree isn’t very big but Stiles still has to pull up a chair to reach the top to get the star in place. He’s a little too thoughtful when sticking it on top, however, and loses his balance when letting go of the tree.

He doesn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know that the hands firmly gripping his hips to prevent him from falling belong to Derek.

A weak smile stretches across his lips as he regains his footing and hops off the chair, feeling himself blush and hoping that the rest of the pack are too occupied to hear his erratic heartbeat.

“Thanks,” he says when the hands let go of him, turning around.

Derek smiles warmly at him and Stiles feels butterflies dance in his stomach.

“Come on,” Derek softly says, tilting his head back toward the kitchen where the others already seem to be discussing the lack of cookies in the house.

He puts a hand between Stiles’ shoulder blades as they enter the room, pushing him gently toward the table where the pack has gathered. It’s the most unnecessary touch, something only Stiles has accounted for in the past, and it takes Stiles a while to realize what it really is.

An invitation.


	19. Wolf Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 19: Somehow Lydia manage to get the whole pack baking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [once-upon-a-time-the-end](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/) & [Vaneh](http://vanehwasreal.tumblr.com/)

 

“Stiles, that’s too much flour!”

“There is no such thing as too much flour!” Stiles insist, ignoring Lydia’s stare of horror as he lets another handful of white powder snow down on the thick dough Derek is busy rolling out.

“I’m pretty sure they aren’t supposed to be  _white_  though,” the Alpha point outs, cocking one eyebrow.

“Less talk, more roll,” Stiles orders, which is probably the first time he’s ever asked Mr. Silence to shut up.

Not that it was very quiet around the table. Bringing the pack together to do something simple as baking could get quite loud. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure he and Derek were the ones working the hardest of them all. If not counting Lydia ordering everyone around like Coach in the middle of a game, that is.

Erica and Boyd are sitting in a corner eating candy and small talking as if they’re in their own little world. Scott and Jackson had both nudged Isaac to sit on the chair next to Danny so intensively that their secret job as matchmakers was made extremely obvious. Stiles almost felt sorry for the guy, but he looks pretty happy helping Danny with the gingerbread house. Allison and Scott are working on a second one, though they seem to be more focused on each other than the actual job at hand. Jackson is rolling out his own piece of dough and sighing helplessly every five minutes because he’s still allergic to people having too much fun.

“Dude, it’s not even that hard,” Stiles comments when Derek seems to have trouble rolling the dough thin enough. “I can do it,” he offers, reaching down from where he’s standing to take the rolling pin out of Derek’s grip. “I’m on a roll anyway. Get it?”

Derek scoffs and bats Stiles’ hands away, pushing him further back with his shoulder. “I got it,” he says with obvious amusement in his voice. “Go wash your hands or something. You look like a snowman.”

Stiles chuckles and gives up the fight, leaning back again with a hand on Derek’s shoulder to support himself. He’s not used to being able to touch Derek like this, without really needing too, but from what had seemed like a wink from Derek yesterday, Stiles had took a chance and it clearly paid off. Derek didn’t have a problem whatsoever with them invading each other’s personal spaces today.

“These ordinary shapes are so boring,” Stiles mutters, leaning over Derek’s shoulder and feeling confidence knowing the werewolf can take his weight. “I want to make my own forms.”

“Yeah, I used to do that, ” Jackson flashed a sarcastic grin his way before dropping it entirely, replacing it with a judging look. “When I was five.”

Stiles sends him a glare, but the tug at the corner of Derek’s mouth is enough for him not to spit back at Jackson. He rolls his eyes instead of commenting and focuses on his and Derek’s professional baking. Various shapes comes to mind, a lot more fun and challenging to do than the regular gingerbread men.

“I want to make a triskele,” he mumbles thoughtfully. 

“Perfect,” Jackson encourages, the sarcasm ringing thick in his voice. “Why don’t you ask Derek to take off his shirt and model for you?”

They all chuckle at that, even Stiles, though he can feel himself blush when trying to shrug it off.

He reaches for a knife and tries to focus as he starts drawing on the thin layer of dough. Derek lays the roller pin aside, but Stiles notices his eyes are following Stiles’ hands, as if he’s curious of how well he manages to cut out the shape, that Stiles obviously knows what the tattoo on his shoulder blades looks like.

Yeah, Stiles knows exactly what it looks like.

 

* * *

 

Quite some time later there are at least two baking sheets filled to the brim with gingerbread cookies in various shapes – whereas one of them is a triskele. It belongs to the lighter half of them, making it easy to tell which cookies are Stiles and Derek’s.

Unsurprisingly, Scott and Allison never managed to get their gingerbread house done, but most of the pack members think they’ve had enough baking for one day.

Lydia looks at the half-finished house with a disgusted frown. “There’s no way I’m joining in on this mess,” she says, and the morale is ruined.

“I’m out,” Derek calls out, dropping his lump of dough on the table and walking out of the kitchen. The rest follow their alpha dutifully.

“I need to defend my title as snowman,” Stiles says. “We’re having a snow ball fight.”

“Don’t forget your jacket,” Derek reminds him when slipping out the door.

“Come on, I need to kick your ass to feel manly again,” Jackson jokes with a light eye roll, bumping his shoulder against Danny’s.

Danny glances at Isaac, still completely focused on making something out of the dough in his hands. “I think I need to lend Isaac some help,” he teases as Isaac tips over the bag of flour.

“Suit yourself,” Jackson smirks like the smug bastard he is before following the rest of the pack.

“Don’t worry,” Danny murmurs. Isaac looks up from where he’s trying to gather up the flour. “We’ll make a gingerbread house if we so have to stay here all night.”

Isaac rewards him with a small smile.

He’s so adorable. Danny knows that Isaac could probably rip him in half without breaking a sweat, but he just can’t help it; Isaac is exactly his type.

“Come on, let’s look over the template again,” he says, trying to halt the direction his thoughts are taking. Turns out that wasn’t the brightest idea since Isaac shuffles over to him, trying to rid his sweatshirt of flour as he walks.

“Okay,” Isaac says.

Danny can feel him next to him, this pleasantly bright presence all along his side, and fuck that’s worse.

They look down at the template.

“Okay,” Danny parrots. “Let’s start from scratch. I don’t know about you, but I am not going to eat those walls.” He points to where Scott and Allison’s pathetic attempt at gingerbread walls for their house sit and shudders at the thought. He’s not quite sure how they managed to fail at that.

“Let’s go,” Isaac enthusiastically cheers and it just…

Danny can’t handle this anymore.

Isaac’s cheek is warm and soft under his lips as he gives him a chaste peck, praying to god that he doesn’t scare him away.

Danny darts backward, giving Isaac a worried look.

Isaac stares at him, wide eyed, raising his hand to his cheek and getting flour smeared all over it in the process before giving Danny a huge grin. ”Finally,” he laughs, grabbing Danny by his tee and pulling him closer.

“Took you long enough.” Danny’s head swivels around to catch Jackson’s annoying as fuck smirk as he leans against the door frame. “Not very hygienic though, guys. Get a room.”

Jackson laughs as he catches the lump of dough Danny launches at him for ruining the moment.

Such a perfect moment it was.


	20. Family By Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 20: Stiles and his dad have another heart-to-heart about the extended family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Steammmpunk](http://steammmpunk.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Stiles nearly flinches at his dad tapping him on the shoulder.

He’d been staring out the kitchen window for God knows how long, as if the whirling flakes outside would provide peace to his unsettled mind.

He’s got a lot on his mind these days and he should’ve seen his dad’s confrontation coming.

“Daydreaming?” The sheriff places his empty cup on the table and sits down across from him.

He’s dressed in a simple shirt because it’s morning and he hasn’t put his jacket on yet.

“Not exactly,” Stiles replies, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table and rest his chin on top of them. “Is there such a thing as daymares?”

“That bad, huh?” His forehead wrinkles in empathy.

Stiles lifts and sinks his shoulders in a weird looking shrug as Derek’s face appears before his eyes. It feels almost weird to not be surrounded by people able to read his every emotion like a newspaper.

“I just… have a lot on my mind,” he finally mumbles, taking the opportunity to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself. “Nothing life-threatening.” At least he hoped it wasn’t.

His dad nods, thumb drumming on the cup in his hand for a moment.

“So what’s up?” Stiles asks. He leans back to slouch down in his chair, all-too keen on changing the subject.

The sheriff sighs and Stiles realize why he came in here in the first place; he’s got something to say.

“Well, I… I felt like I should talk to you,” he starts. “About Melissa.”

“Huh,” says Stiles.

It doesn’t come as a surprise; he’s been waiting for this to happen. And not in a tell-me-something-I-don’t-know way, but in a finally-it’s-happening-please-tell-me-more way.

“You know we’ve been friends for a long time now and we practically raised you and Scott together the last couple years… or maybe not raised…,” Stiles huffs. “You know, we’ve been two broken families, looking out for each other. Sometimes I’d just like to see all four of us as…  _one_  family.”

Stiles stays quiet for a time before breathing out heavily.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re dating, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know if that’s the word to use in my age,” his dad scoffs a bit nervously. “But… yeah.” His face turns soft and serious. “I really care about her, Stiles.”

He sounds insecure, and Stiles gets that. He’s afraid how Stiles is going to react to this kind of news. And given a few years back, Stiles isn’t sure he’d be able to handle it, with the memory and loss of his own mother too fresh and unhealed. But he is now.

“I know you do,” he says, quiet but reassuring. The look of relief on his father’s face makes a smile tug at his own lips. “I’m happy for you guys, dad, of course I am. Scott and I are practically brothers anyway.”

His dad chuckles and nods in agreement.

But then he looks like another thought had come to mind and it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say.

Stiles waits patiently.

“You’re spending a lot of time with the pack these days,” he begins. “Which is good because I know I work a lot and I hate for you to be all alone.” He smiles weakly. “I know they mean a lot to you. Some more than others…,” Stiles swallows as his heart jolts a little. “But you all care for one another. You guys have practically become your own little family… haven’t you?”

Stiles doesn’t hesitate to nod. Most of them – apart from the always popular Jackson trio – were outcasts before Derek brought them all together. Whether it was intentional or not, they had finally begun to rely on each other, trust each other, until the word ‘friends’ had felt like the only proper way to address one another. And they really were like a family, even if Derek must be the worst dad in history.

“Which is why,” his dad continues, “I’m really looking forward to having everyone gathered around the dinner table at Christmas.”

Stiles cracks up in a smile, not even trying to hide his joy because even if his dad had suggested him inviting them all over for Christmas dinner, it had felt as if he only did it to be polite and maybe try to get used to the crazy that was his son’s life. Until now.

“Me too,” he grins, knowing it was true despite his inner confusion concerning his feelings for Derek.

He still wanted nothing more than to have him by his side on the couch, surrounded by the rest of the wolves.

The sheriff remains seated with a beaming smile a moment longer before clearing his throat.

“Right. So, I’ve got to get to work,” he excuses himself from the table and Stiles nods in understanding. His dad claps him on the shoulder as he walks by and out the kitchen.

Almost immediately, Stiles digs the phone out of his pocket and sends a text to Scott.

_That only took 3 years._

They’ve both been waiting for this to happen. Not all this time, but for the last three years or so they’d hoped for it, knowing their parents made a great team and had been too lonely for too long.

_Did he finally tell you?_

Stiles frowns at Scott’s text, mouthing a silent ‘what the hell’ to himself while typing back.

_You knew?_

Scott replies almost at once.

 _Werewolf_.

Stiles snorts and shakes his head.

_I hate you._

But he’s smiling and it only gets worse when Scott answers:

_I love you, too, brother._


	21. Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 21: Derek seeks out Stiles whose out on a field late at night, contemplating his life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Kamithetiger](http://kamithetiger.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Stiles hears the approaching footsteps in the snow behind him before Derek’s voice cuts through the chilly air.

“Your dad said you’d be here.”

He turns around with his hands still stowed into his pockets, smiling softly at Derek who walks across the deserted field toward him.

“You know, it’s pretty impressive; the amount of times you’ve come to visit me lately.”

Derek huffs and shakes his head, closing the distance between them and Stiles stands still, waiting. He’d come out here to clear his head, something he hadn’t done in quite some time. There hadn’t been much to ponder about until these recent weeks.

“Why didn’t you just sniff me out?” He asks once Derek stops in front of him, doubting he’ll ever get used to the idea of the Alpha and his dad communicating. “Unable to catch my scent in this cold?”

“I can always catch your scent,” Derek responds in a steady voice. Then his lips pulls up in a weak smirk. “But it’s more polite to ask.”

“Oh, you’re learning,” Stiles teases. “Guess you  _can_  teach an old dog new tricks.”

He expects Derek to cock an eyebrow; glare, snort, roll his eyes, all of the above. Instead his lips cracks up in a playful grin before he reaches down to swiftly grab a handful snow to throw at Stiles. He gasps more at the action than the actual impact, jumping backwards even though it’s too late to get away.

“Dude, I’m not even wearing my jacket!” Stiles exclaims, not hesitating to splash some snow in Derek’s direction for revenge.

“I’ve heard that a lot lately,” Derek smiles.

Somehow they end up having a minor snowball fight, just the two of them, until Stiles’ clothes are soaked in snow and he turns to flee further into the field. He doesn’t get very far until Derek catches up with him and grab his sides, probably with the intention to stop him, but instead they both fall over and end up sitting in the snow.

Stiles is laughing, trying to catch his breath. Behind him he can hear Derek chuckle as well and it makes his stomach twist, making it even harder to relax.

Once they go quiet, the whole plain falls into silence. Stiles watches the white smoke as he breathes out, intensively listening to Derek’s every move behind his back.

He’s not sure exactly how long they sit frozen like that before he feels Derek’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him back against his chest. Stiles doesn’t dare breathe, not until the back of his head is resting against Derek’s collarbone. His heart is racing again, but he’s starting to get used to it in the presence of this specific werewolf.

When Stiles finally does manage to relax against the solid body supporting him a few moments later, he decide to break the silence.

“So what are you doing here?” He murmurs, too afraid to talk loud in case he ruins the moment.

Derek moves his head a bit to brush his chin over Stiles’ short hair and he can’t help but smile at the scraping sound the stubble makes.

“I never thanked you,” he rumbles. “For dragging me back into all this Christmas business. I’ve been avoiding it for so long and then you came and stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Once again there’s something sweet in the accusation and Stiles chuckles in response. He lets another quiet moment pass by while biting his lip.

“Did it use to be different? With your family, I mean?” He asks carefully.

“If you’re asking whether we had some kind of ritual including eating raw meat or praying to the wolf gods, then no.”

Derek’s voice is light and it’s not at all what Stiles expected it to be. He scoffs at Derek’s teasing and the man sighs before becoming more serious.                                                                                                                                 

“We weren’t  too different from any other family, I suppose. Except for the howling.”

“Howling?” Stiles repeats.

“Yeah,  _howling_.” And he actually shudders at Derek’s way of pronouncing the word. “It’s something we did every Christmas Eve by midnight. Howled, the whole pack united.” Stiles can both feel and hear Derek sigh behind him. “It was… special. But I haven’t done it in  _years_. Laura and I gave it up because it wasn’t the same with only the two of us.”

Stiles lets a minute pass before he ventures.

“Was it an instinct?”

“Not at all,” Derek replies. “There was the power thing, of course; we’re stronger in multiple numbers. But for us it was a family thing. Kind of a tradition, I guess.”

Stiles nods in understanding, head still resting against Derek’s front. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to say anything in conclusion to the topic, but Derek seems to be fine with silence for now.

Another moment goes by with them sitting wrapped up on the ground, breathing the same air together. Their clothes are still wet and cold from the snow  but none of them seem to pay much attention to it.

Then Derek lowers his head a little, bringing his mouth closer to Stiles’ ear.

“Did you intentionally forget your jacket?” He asks in a murmur and Stiles can  _feel_  the smile on his lips.

He doesn’t even try to contain the smirk spreading across his face.

“Maybe.”

Maybe he’d come out here alone, hoping for Derek to show up like he had.

Maybe he’d come here to think, realizing he’d already made a decision.


	22. Fireplace Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 22: Derek finds out that fire doesn't only destroy; it can also bring people together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Zombiewretch](http://zombiewretch.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Wyxan](http://sterekhowla.tumblr.com/)

 

“Derek, please!”

“Stiles. I said no.”

“But I’m freezing my butt off here!”

“I’ll just… turn up the heat.”

“Oh, I see. Nothing says “I care” quite like the push of a button.”

Derek glares at Stiles over his shoulder, his finger frozen mid-air, and lets out a jaded sigh. 

“If I do this, will you let me skip on Christmas Carols night?” Derek asks with a sullen tone.

“Aw, man, I’ve been looking forward to that for ages!” Stiles whimpers, pouting a little, no doubt in hopes to make Derek feel guilty. 

Unfortunately for him, it fails miserably. Derek keeps staring at him impassively, making it very clear he is not going to budge. Stiles sighs again and leans against the fireplace, folding his arms across his chest in defeat. 

“Fine. I’ve been working on my high C for months, but I guess no one cares about that,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Get over it, Pavarotti,” Derek snickers from across the living room. “You’re finally getting your fire. Rejoice!”

Stiles gives him the cold shoulder for a second, but rapidly cracks up into a silly grin as Derek makes his way toward the fireplace and crouches down to grab the tools. After all, Stiles has been pestering him all night to light a fire, so he should be feeling proud to finally get Derek to grant his demand. 

“And besides, you’re finally getting to use all the firewood you murdered the other day! It’s a win-win,” Stiles remarks. He takes a step back allowing Derek room to work his magic on building a fire.

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’m pretty sure this puppy here is the only thing that has yet to be deflowered in this house anyway,” Derek says, nodding at the shiny newly-refurbished fireplace. “Well, maybe not the ONLY thing…” he ventures with a sly smile, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“Not fair!” Stiles bellows, giving Derek a small kick on the foot, before shuffling over to the nearby armchair to plop down and blush in silence.

Derek can’t help but burst into laughter, and somehow it seems to relax the atmosphere considerably. The bright resonance of his laugh sounds so foreign to his own ears and even though this reckoning feels bittersweet, he can’t help but feel warmth and gratitude too, all directed at Stiles.

“That should do it!” Derek exclaims, throwing one last log into the dancing flames. “What do you think?” he asks, grunting as he gets up and steps back to sprawl out on the couch.

“It’s… beautiful,” Stiles murmurs with a spreading smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

For a long while, no more words are spoken. A comfortable silence settles in, only disrupted by the crackles of the fire burning strong inside the hearth, casting quivering shadows all over the dimly lit room. Derek’s eyes stay fixed on the flames, full of concern and anxiety, because the last time fire was burning under this roof, it had destroyed everything he held most dear. But then he flashes back to the night at the Stilinski house, when Stiles had so seamlessly managed to allay his most vicious fears. 

“Come here,” Derek whispers. 

He hears Stiles’ heart skip a beat, but remains immobile as the boy slowly crawls his way to his side and sits cross-legged on the couch. Derek turns his head toward him, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Closer.”

Stiles gapes at him and swallows hard. He looks unsettled, but he obliges, shifting closer until his shoulder collides with Derek’s chest. The instant their bodies touch, Derek feels a wave of serenity sweep through his flesh, washing away all traces of angst he might have felt a second ago. Stiles huffs amusedly. 

“See? It’s not that hard. You’re already doing so much better than last time,” he smiles, nudging Derek’s ribs tenderly. He must have felt Derek relax under his touch,because his heartbeat is started to slow down too, creating a virtuous circle that Derek embarks on gladly. 

“It’s all thanks to you. You… soothe me,” he admits and this simple thought makes the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

“Glad I can help,” Stiles replies with a contained grin, but Derek can feel he’s really beaming inside.

As the next few minutes go by, Derek inadvertedly slouches down against Stiles’ side, as the relaxed atmosphere turns into a torpid one; progressively, he sinks further down, until his head comes to rest on Stiles’ shoulder, without either of them thinking twice about it. Somehow, it just feels right.

For a moment, Derek’s eyes divert from the golden flames and stumble upon Stiles’ hand laid palm-down on his thigh. He reaches out carefully, brushing the back of Stiles’ hand with his fingertips, causing the both of them to unconsciously hold their breaths. Derek starts tracing the veins with his forefinger and this subtle touch sends shivers down his spine. 

“You planned this all along, didn’t you? The cozy night in, the fire… you just wanted to get all up on this,” Derek scoffs sloppily, feeling his eyelids getting heavy. 

“You have no proof,” Stiles retorts with a smug smile, tilting his head to rest on top of Derek’s.


	23. Truthful Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 23: Sometimes darkness can be a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Ninakask](http://ninakask.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

“Stiles?”

Derek sounds surprised, but all Stiles can make out in the dark is a tall shadow climbing through his window. He gets up from where he’s been sitting on the edge of his bed, dropping the phone on the covers as he walks over to the werewolf.

“Hey,” he says, mainly to acknowledge his position in the dark room, despite Derek’s improved senses.

The only light source is the moon glowing outside the window which only provide enough light for Stiles to make out Derek’s silhouette. His head moves and Stiles guesses he’s looking at him.

“Why is everything pitch black?” Derek asks, addressing the real elephant in the room.

“Short version: my dad was going to plug in the Christmas tree’s light bulbs and the whole house’s power went out.”

Though he can’t see anything, Stiles swears Derek cocks an eyebrow at that.

“And the long version?”

“There is none,” Stiles admits.

Derek huffs and Stiles can’t help but smile. The silence that follows is not as tense as it used to be.

“So why did you ask me to come over?” Derek rumbles after a while.

Stiles swallows, still not sure how well Derek can see him in the dark. He never asked Scott if being a werewolf included night vision.

“Because I wanted to talk to you. Before tomorrow.”

There’s another pause in which – judging by the following disbelief in his voice – Derek did something with his eyebrows.

“And your dad just  _happens_  to make all the lights in your house go out tonight?”

“Dude, that was totally coincidental!” Stiles insists, even though he knows Derek is just teasing. He sighs, rolling his eyes despite no one being able to see it. “Part of me is glad he messed up though,” he mumbles. “This would go down a lot differently if I’d be able to see you.”

Derek has no response to that; Stiles wasn’t really expecting one, anyway.

He steps back a little, tries to give them some distance, but Derek follows him into the center of the room. His heart is beating faster than it did before the Alpha showed up, but neither of them should find that surprising by now. That’s probably why he’d sent that text, asking Derek to come over, because no matter how things have been building up between them this final week before Christmas, there were some things he wanted to know before taking the final step.

Derek doesn’t ask, the silence does it for him.

“So,” Stiles starts. “If there’s one thing I learned from that Actual Love movie–”

“Love Actually,” Derek corrects.

“Whatever. If I learned one thing from it, it’s that Christmas is the time to be honest.”

More silence. Stiles knows it’s just Derek’s way of wanting him to elaborate. He breathes in deep.

“Look, there are some things I want to know,” he explains slowly. He shoves his restless hands down the pockets of his sweatpants and lets out a ragged breath, trying to ease himself up. Derek, as far as Stiles can tell, remains immobile. “I want to ask you some questions and I need you to answer truthfully.”

“Is this some kind of truthful game?” Derek asks.

“Yes,” Stiles replies simply and receives a snort in reply. “And don’t use your superpowers to listen to my heartbeat or any of that crap, okay? It’s unfair, and you know I can’t tell if you’re cheating.”

There’s a movement which Stiles interprets as a nod.

“I won’t.”

Stiles smiles to himself, slightly overwhelmed by how easily Derek’s agreeing to this. And while the point of this was indeed serious, he still can’t help himself when trying to come up with the first question and blurts out, “What do I smell like?”

“ _Stiles!_ ”

“Oh, come on!” Stiles pleads. “I’ve always wondered.”

Derek sighs and the contour of him moves back a few steps. Stiles’ eyes have begun to adjust by now to the dim darkness in the room and he can see Derek slouching against his desk.

“You don’t smell like anything,” he explains quietly after a moment. So quietly Stiles has to strain to hear him. “Just… you. Like any other person, you’ve got your own scent. You don’t need an improved sense of smell to know that.”

And Stiles  _does_  know that. All those times within the last couple days when he’d been close to Derek, he’d felt it. Not the smell of his clothes or aftershave or anything like that, but just the smell of Derek himself.

He swallows hard. “But you can pick up on feelings too, right?”

“Yes,” Derek murmurs.

“Are you doing it right now?” Stiles holds his breath in anticipation. He’s shaking, sweating; how attractive right?

There’s a pause. “I’m trying not to.”

For a while, all Stiles can hear is his own breathing and the throbbing of his heart. He blinks rapidly, hoping for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light faster. He can make out Derek’s vague form; the leather of his jacket and the brightness of his eyes glinting in the darkness.

The sight and realization of the situation makes his heart skip a beat and even if Derek said he’d try not to use his advantage tonight, Stiles can bet his feelings are filling up the room like the amount of trash littering a cinema.

He’s not sure when – or how – it happened, he just knows it did. These last few weeks, with the pack growing closer and Christmas approaching, he’d developed a longing. For Derek. His touch, the heavy, familiar weight of his eyes on Stiles, his warm presence, seeing him  _laugh_. He’d been confused at first, not knowing what was really happening. But he’s not doubting anymore.

He’s in love with Derek Hale and he’s pretty sure the man in front of him knows that. Which is why he hopes Derek understands his next question.

“Did you love Kate?”

Derek had never told the whole story, but Stiles had figured it all out. Not only by scanning through his dad’s reports with Harris connecting Kate to the Hale fire or how she’d been the one tracking down the pack, but also the look on Derek’s face whenever her name was mentioned. He didn’t only look angry or revengeful, but also  _hurt_. Broken and betrayed, which is the state he’d been in for as long as Stiles has known him. Until recently.

Derek had always advised Scott to stay away from Allison and Stiles hadn’t looked into it before, but when he thought about it, it all made sense. Like the last puzzle piece falling into place; only this puzzle was frayed and burned at the edges, wearing thin. Practically too damaged to fix, but Stiles will help smooth out the edges.

Derek had tried preventing history from repeating itself. Even after Kate’s death and now Gerard’s disappearance, with things returning to normal, Derek had needed more time to consider Allison as part of the pack than any of the others.

The question is left hanging in the air enough time to make Stiles jumpy, thinking it might’ve been a bad choice.

“I thought I did,” finally comes the reply and Stiles can’t help but think Derek sounds as if he’d been expecting this question. “But… that wasn’t love. I never experienced it before, so I couldn’t tell love and flat out attraction apart. They’re two very different things.”

“How can you be so sure?” Stiles asks quietly.

Derek tilts his head up a little and Stiles is 98% certain he’s looking straight at him.

“Because now I know the difference.”

There’s a short moment of silence before Stiles opens his mouth again, but Derek speaks first.

“My turn.”

Stiles scoffs weakly, but agrees. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Who was your first kiss?”

Stiles is caught off guard by the bluntly asked question, gaping like a fish for a while before swallowing. Part of his mind immediately starts working on a lie, but he knows Derek deserves nothing but the truth. Especially after what he just told him.

“No one,” he realizes how pathetic that sounds and laughs miserably. “I mean, no one could handle all of me anyway, you know?” He gestures lamely to himself.

“What?” Derek asks, sounding as if he’s misunderstanding.

“I’ve never been kissed,” Stiles clarifies with a shrug. “What a loser, huh?”

Derek remains perfectly quiet for a while before saying, “No.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything. His heart is racing, slamming against his ribs almost painfully. He’s staring toward Derek’s shape, now fairly visible to his eyes while holding his breath. Nothing happens for a long time, though Stiles is unable to tell seconds and minutes apart.

Eventually Derek abandons the desk he’s been leaning against, straightening his back and walking up to Stiles who remains perfectly still.

“Here,” he breathes as he comes to a stop. Stiles can see his jaw moving in the faint moonlight now. “Feel my heart.”

Stiles lets out a ragged breath. “Why?”

“Because I can hear yours,” Derek replies calmly. “And you wanted things to be fair.”

It takes a few seconds before Stiles moves, lifting his right hand from the bottom of his pocket to Derek’s chest. He places it right above Derek’s heart, his eyes glued to his hand. Both of them inhale sharply at the contact and Stiles can feel the skip of Derek’s heart right underneath his palm. A shaky breath escapes his lips in surprised, marvelous awe.

He watches his hand move from the rise and fall of Derek’s chest for some time before looking directly into Derek’s eyes.

He realizes then how close they’re standing, and the moment their gazes meet, both their hearts jolt. Stiles can’t help but let out a soft chuckle and he can see a smile spreading across Derek’s lips, too.

It’s so surreal to feel Derek’s heart throbbing just as hard as his own does, to feel it beating right in the palm of his hand.

Beating, for him.


	24. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 24: Christmas Eve is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Zombiewretch](http://zombiewretch.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Stiles can’t recall the last time he’d spent most of Christmas Eve pacing back and forth in the living room, but he was pretty sure it was several years ago. When you’re a kid, Christmas is no doubt the most exciting time of the year and you spend all day impatiently awaiting Santa’s arrival.

Today he’s feeling that childish excitement again and the butterflies are going crazy in his stomach every time he throws a glance at the clock, counting down the exact moment the pack should be here.

“I don’t get it,” his dad mutters from the kitchen. “You see them every single day!”

And Stiles doesn’t have a good answer for that. Perhaps it’s the thought of them all gathered on the one night of the year when you’re supposed to be with your loved ones and knowing one of them is Derek.

The McCall’s ring the doorbell first.

Scott throws himself at Stiles, giving him a bear hug and almost knocking them both over in the process. They witness their parents embrace and Melissa kissing the Sheriff’s cheek shortly and exchange a secret smile as the adults heads into the kitchen to finish dinner.

Allison and Lydia appear next; Chris waves to the boys from the car before driving off. Scott pulls his girlfriend into a happy kiss while Lydia hugs Stiles before demanding everyone’s opinion on her new dress. None of them dare say anything but it being absolutely gorgeous and Stiles catches Melissa playfully rolling her eyes.

A Porsche pulls up on the driveway and soon Jackson and Danny squish into the hallway with them. The former douche bag actually claps Scott and Stiles’ shoulder before heading off to find Lydia, who’s by the tree, judging all of Stiles’ embarrassing second grade ornaments with his picture of them.

Danny hugs them all lovingly and Stiles can’t help but point out the smell of Armani being extra noticeable.

Last to arrive are the remaining werewolves taking up four of the hooks on the coat rack for their leather jackets. Boyd and Erica are holding hands, smiling brighter than ever as they greet everyone inside. Isaac barely gets his foot through the door before Danny comes leaping into his arms, for the first time not worrying about the audience.

Then Derek walks through the door and Stiles’ gaze is mechanically drawn to him. Their eyes meet immediately and a beautiful smile grows on Derek’s lips. Stiles feels himself smiling back while a warm feeling spreads across his chest.

“Merry Christmas,” the Alpha greets.

“Merry Christmas,” Stiles mumbles back. Derek’s eyes remain glued to him for a bit before turning his attention to the rest of the pack.

Jackson elbow Stiles teasingly as they all head into the living room and Stiles tells him to shut up even though he can feel his cheeks burning and a grin stretch across his lips.

 

* * *

 

Stiles has no clue how they manage to fit around the dinner table, but he’s thrilled that they do. The house is filled with warmth and laughter as they dig into all the delicious food with an atmosphere so joyful and loving that it’s impossible not to smile through every moment.

Isaac steps up and talks more than Stiles has ever heard him do, telling joke after joke and causing the sheriff to laugh until he starts coughing. Melissa claps his back, dramatically telling everyone it’s okay, she’s a doctor.

Jackson accidentally spilt some food on his girlfriend’s dress and at first, Stiles expected all hell to break loose, but she shrugged it off like everyone  _hadn’t_ been expecting World War Three and placed a kiss on Jackson’s cheek. Apparently not even Lydia Martin is immune to the fuzzy Christmas spirit.

Scott turns into a five year old again and starts throwing food across the table at Stiles, claiming that he can hit his open mouth. Despite the co-captain’s good aim, they never find out whether that’s true or not because Stiles refuses to be the target and it all turns into a childish food war.

Stiles laughs to the point where his stomach hurts.

 

* * *

 

Later at night when dinner is over, they all retreat back into the living room to gather around the Christmas tree with the warm, crackling fire. Werewolves and humans are filling up every couch and armchair in sight; some of them even settle for the floor. Though the room is still filled with positive energy, they seem to calm down since dinner. There’s an old movie on TV and some are watching it while others are chatting in low volume.

“Looks like my house has turned into a love shack tonight,” the sheriff smiles where he’s sitting next to Melissa on the couch.

It’s pretty hard to disagree with that because even if they’re all sitting together as a group, they’re still divided into two and two. Scott and Allison, Boyd and Erica, Danny and Isaac, Jackson and Lydia.

Stiles is sitting leaning against Derek’s side in one of the couches, feeling confident despite the pack being well aware of what’s going on. He scoffs along with the others at his dad’s words, feeling his cheeks flush slightly and dips his head into the curve of Derek’s neck. It’s warm and comfortable and he just doesn’t ever wanna move.

Next thing he knows, there’s a kick on his leg and he’s snapping his eyes open. He blinks tiredly while lifting his head, asking himself when he’d dozed off. Scott is standing over him with an amused expression, kicking him again.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. I’m about to kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

Stiles mumbles something insignificant while shifting into a seated position, feeling a little bit embarrassed for actually falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder.

“You say that every year,” he reminds him before yawning.

“It’s been a special year, don’t you think?” Scott remarks with a challenging smirk, kicking him one last time before moving to set up the Xbox. “Come on!”

Stiles sighs in defeat, figuring video games would be a good idea to keep himself awake.

He turns to look at Derek still sitting calmly at his side. He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered by Stiles taking a nap and using him as a pillow. In fact, Stiles realizes he’s got his arm slung over the back of the couch, as if holding around Stiles’ shoulders. Suddenly he kind of wishes he hadn’t woken up.

“Go,” Derek encourages with a nudge and Stiles realizes he might’ve unconsciously been seeking his permission to move.

He flashes a weak smile before getting to his feet and following Scott.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, after Scott has been beaten in the resident’s every video game, the pack starts to dissipate from the room. Jackson grabs Lydia’s hand and goes off to find a more private corner of the house and just a little while later, Boyd and Erica do the exact same thing. Stiles has no idea what’s going on until he catches Danny grabbing the box he bought with him before calling out to Isaac.

Secret Santa. Stiles feels the excitement stir in his gut.

He and Scott are still sitting on the floor, clenching the controllers, until Allison comes knocking on her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes to Stiles. “Can I borrow him for a minute?”

“I was done with him anyway,” Stiles reassures. “He’s all yours.”

Scott gives him an affectionate bump on the shoulder before going with Allison.

Sighing, he gets up from the floor and only to discovers he’s alone in the room. His dad and Melissa are in the kitchen and the couch where he and Derek had sat next to the tree was empty. Even though he’d lost track of time, he’s actually surprised he didn’t notice him leave.

He sticks his head into the kitchen where his dad and Melissa are in a brief conversation.

“Have you seen Derek?” He asks, feeling surprisingly unabashed.

Melissa smiles sweetly at him while his dad pretends to put on his thinking cap.

“Older handsome fellow?” Stiles gives him a tired glare and the sheriff smiles softly. “He’s on the porch, kiddo.”

Stiles gives them a curt smile in thanks before swirling around and heading for the front door. He digs into his pocket and his heartbeat speeds up a little when his hand closes around the little package. He inhales a sharp breath when clenching the door handle, letting one final thought run through his head before stepping outside.

This is it.

His dad had hung up more Christmas lights on the roof of the porch on the front of the house, which he’d thankfully got working soon after Derek left last night. He stands looking at them at the far end when Stiles approaches. He knows the werewolf is well aware of his presence, despite him moving over the porch in his socks without a sound.

“Sneaking off, are you?”

Derek turns to face him, the corner of his lip twitching into a half smile. “Isn’t that what everyone else is doing?” He points out, cocking an eyebrow.

Stiles shrugs lightly, takes one last step before coming to a stop barely two feet from Derek. “Apparently everyone seems to have known their Secret Santa beforehand,” he says. “Except me.”

“And me.”

“Well, that makes things kind of obvious, doesn’t it?” Stiles huffs as his heart jumps, both thrilled and terrified by the thought of Derek being the one finding him a gift.

He’s not patient enough to wait any longer, so he shoves his hand down his pocket to pull out the package and presents it proudly to Derek. The man chuckles softly at Stiles’ eagerness before taking it.

Once free from its wrapping, Derek holds the necklace in the palm of his hand, eyes examining the wolf shaped pendant. Stiles can’t tell if his silent reaction is a good or bad one.

“I found it when Lydia dragged me into a jewelry store,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “And… I don’t know. I guess it reminded me of you?” Derek’s eyes lingers on the wolf in silver for a little bit longer before looking up to meet Stiles’ eyes. “I was going to make a bad collar joke…”

“Please don’t,” Derek begs, but once again there’s that fondness in his voice and Stiles can’t help but crack a smile.

“Are you going to put it on?”

Derek glance back down to the pendant in his hand before handing it to Stiles. “You do it,” he says steadily.

Stiles makes one of his gaping fish impressions before swallowing his surprise.

He accepts the chain from Derek’s hand, taking one step forward to reach around his neck. Derek remains perfectly still, calmly watching Stiles’ face as the chain closes around his throat and the pendant comes to hang on his chest. Stiles steps back once it’s in place, smiling proudly at the sight. Derek looks even better in it than he’d hoped.

“You don’t have anything for me, do you?” He teases after a short silence.

“Actually, I do,” Derek declares and Stiles feels the childish excitement coming back to life. He doesn’t move to pull out a box somewhere, but instead slips out of his jacket and takes a step closer to wrap it around Stiles’ shoulders.

It takes a while before he gets it.

“You’re giving me your leather jacket?” He asks doubtingly, to which Derek simply nods. “But… that’s basically part of your anatomy.”

Derek chuckles softly, letting his hands fall to his sides and Stiles immediately misses the weight on his shoulders. “You’ve practically used it more than me lately,” he teases. “Besides…” His voice grows deeper and more serious. “It already smells like you.”

Stiles swallows as his heartbeat speeds up even further at that clarification. He’s left speechless for a while before he’s recollected himself.

“You’re sure this wasn’t a last-minute thing? It wasn’t wrapped in.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t have any wrapping paper,” he admits to which Stiles rolls his eyes and smiles. “But if you insist,” Derek continues, making a move toward the door. “I’m sure I can–”

Stiles wraps a hand around his wrist before he can move away and the feeling of Derek’s warm skin makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat.  He looks into Derek’s eyes, only inches away from him now, and he can feel Derek’s racing pulse in the vein of his wrist, matching his own.

They stay like that for a moment, just studying each other’s faces while acknowledging one another’s fast beating heart. Stiles’ breath turns unsteady and when he shudders, he’s not sure if it’s because of the cold or by being so close to Derek.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” He murmurs.

Derek breathes out and Stiles can feel the hot air on his face. “I wanted to do this without the others watching,” he says softly. “They’ve done that enough already.”

“Do what?” Stiles breathes.

Derek blinks slowly and Stiles can see the Christmas lights reflect in his eyes. God, he’s so… beautiful, no matter how corny it sounds.

“This,” Derek whispers before leaning in to capture Stiles’ lips in a firm kiss.

Stiles breathes in heavily through his nose when their lips touch, like he’s gasping for air. He’s not shocked by the kiss because he himself has been starving for it, which is why the sound of his throbbing heart fills his ears and he’s unable to hear the soft moan that escapes him. Derek reaches up to carefully cup Stiles’ face in his hands, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb. Stiles shivers at how gentle his every move is, as if he fears Stiles will move away if he goes too fast.

Happiness and success explodes inside him and soon he’s unable to stop himself from chuckling in pure bliss as the kiss gets interrupted. Derek doesn’t seem upset about him pulling away. This is his first kiss after all and Stiles is glad he knows that. Derek makes sure they remain close, however, resting his forehead on Stiles’ and brushing their noses together in the lightest of Eskimo kisses. He’s smiling too and the spark in his eyes aren’t caused by a reflection this time.

 

* * *

 

Toward midnight, Stiles manages to drag the whole pack outside to the field near his house.

“What are we doing here?” Derek asks from behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around his waist and steadying his chin on his shoulder.

Stiles hasn’t been able to stop smiling for the whole past hour. He turns his head to the side to brush his nose against Derek’s cheek. “The Christmas Howl.”

“The what?” Derek frowns.

“You told me about it, remember? Your pack used to howl by midnight every Christmas Eve.”

Derek blinks and turns his head further toward him. “You named it  _The Christmas Howl?_ ”

“It needed a name,” Stiles defends.

Derek chuckles into the curve of his neck. “I like it.”

Stiles feels his heart still beating steady and hard against his ribs when he turns to look at the remaining pack members spread across the field.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes!” 

“Wait,” Derek says confused. “ _You’re_  going to howl?”

“Dude, I can howl,” Stiles assures.

Derek gives him a playful nudge with his nose before straightening his back and lifting his head to the sky to let out a loud, clear howl. The rest of the wolves join in and Stiles get chills by how powerful it sounds. After a while he throws his own head back and tries to mimic a howling wolf, but ends up sounding like a deranged puppy. Derek eventually drops his head to laugh at him.

“That was the cutest howl I’ve ever heard,” he teases. Stiles doesn’t mind.

He reaches up to curl his hands inside Derek’s hair and pull him into another kiss, which is a lot more confident than their first one. Derek’s moan reverberates throughout Stiles’ body and he smiles into the kiss.

He doesn’t care that the rest are cat calling and whistling. All he cares about is the man in front of him holding him like he’s something special, something delicate. Stiles is in love with him, and vice versa, and that’s all that matters in this moment.


	25. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 15: It’s Christmas Day morning…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Daunt](http://daunt.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Zainclaw](http://zainclaw.tumblr.com/)

 

Derek can’t tell how long he’s been awake, just lying there on his back in bed with his head propped up on the pillow placed against the headboard. He knows he’s been watching the sunrise through the blinds covering the window, but he can’t tell if it was five hours or five minutes ago. The present feels timeless; perhaps because he hasn’t allowed himself to relax until now.

He glances down to the still sleeping boy, rising and falling with the heaving of Derek’s chest. Stiles has got one hand grasping the front of Derek’s t-shirt as he sleeps, face nuzzled into the fabric. He hasn’t moved an inch for as long as Derek has been watching him, how ever long that may be. He’s not bothered by the rhythm of Derek’s breathing because they’re breathing  _together_ , in the exact same pace. Derek can’t tell when that happened either.

One of his hands remains where it is, holding Stiles’ shoulder with the arm wrapped around him, while the other slides down to run its fingers through the short, soft hair. It’s even softer than Derek imagined it to be.

A weak smile spreads across his lips when he moves his hand to Stiles’ face. He brushes his thumb over the cheekbone, tracing the jaw with his forefinger. His smile only grows wider when Stiles barely reacts to his touch and Derek isn’t complaining; he could happily spend the rest of Christmas Day like this.

The sun’s streaming through the window blinds, casting stripes of lights over the bed. Derek runs another two fingers over Stiles’ warm cheek, feeling his heartbeat hot and comfortable inside his chest. Stiles is so beautiful, but he doubt he’d ever take a compliment like that seriously.

When he hears steps approaching Stiles’ bedroom door, he doesn’t flinch away. He doesn’t even move – even if he’d reentered the house behind the sheriff’s back last night. He’s done running and hiding, specially from Stiles’ side.

There’s a gentle knock on the door before it’s swung open. Stiles sighs deeply in his sleep but doesn’t move to acknowledge the sound. The sheriff peeks his head inside and his eyes immediately catch Derek’s before moving own to Stiles. There’s surprise in them and then there isn’t.

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” He says softly, offering him a reassuring, but tired, smile.

“Merry Christmas, Sheriff,” Derek greets back with a grateful nod.

The sheriff returns his attention to his son still sleeping soundly, Derek’s hand stroking his hair and neck, and shakes his head. There’s something very fond in his eyes and Derek figures he hasn’t seen his boy sleep this peaceful in a long time. He swallows the happy lump in his throat, wondering if he might have been the reason.

Eventually the sheriff sighs lightly and looks back at Derek.

“When you two are ready, there’s presents and breakfast downstairs.”

Derek nods again and smiles weakly in response, feeling as if it’s too good to be true when the father of the boy in his arms returns the gesture before turning to close the door behind him, leaving them alone.

He drops his gaze back to Stiles’ illuminated face, feeling his heart swell all over again. Part of him doesn’t want Stiles to ever wake up, to have this moment remain, their hearts beating right next to each other for the rest of eternity. But he doesn’t want to keep Stiles’ dad waiting or Stiles will complain about him not waking him up.

Carefully he arches his back and dips his head down to place a soft kiss on Stiles’ forehead. He can feel his own heart skip a beat at the simple contact and grins at how easily this boy gets under his shell, penetrating the walls he worked so hard to build up. Stiles lets out a dragged out groan and starts moving in slow motion. The grip on Derek’s shirt is lost and the hand turns into a fist, sliding on the sheet as he stretches.

After further shuffling around and mumbling incoherent noises, his eyes finally slide open and Derek is thankful that there’s no one around to acknowledge the butterflies in his stomach swirling. Stiles blinks up at him slowly, still with one of his cheeks pressed against Derek’s chest. Then the goofiest grin spreads across his face and Derek lets out a huff, not able to handle Stiles’ cuteness.

Without saying anything, he runs his hand through the boy’s hair again before settling it on the back of his neck, stroking the skin there. And Stiles just lets him, eyes remaining fixed on Derek’s through the silence.

“I thought I had the most amazing dream,” he murmurs. “About the perfect Christmas.” The hand lying flat on the mattress comes up to curl its fingers into Derek’s hair. “Apparently… it wasn’t a dream.”

Derek shivers at the contact, eyelids falling shut for a second while another grin grows on his face. It still feels weird because he’s not used to smiling this much all at the same time. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it, ever get used to  _Stiles_.

When he looks up again, Stiles’ eyes are flickering over him. He lets his hand drop to slide down Derek’s neck to the wolf-shaped pendant lying on his chest. Derek had nearly forgotten all about it until Stiles’ fingers trace the chain around his neck, reminding him of the silver put over his head by Stiles’ own hands last night. As the boys eyes slowly return to his, Derek feels a longing pulling at his gut, and he leaps forward.

Stiles seems to have been thinking the same thing and tilts his head up to meet him half way. Their lips collide in a firm and tender kiss, both of them breathing out in relief through their noses at the long-missed contact. Derek can hear Stiles’ pulse rise alongside his own and it’s no less thrilling than it was last night.

He only leans back when Stiles parts his lips in a much needed breath of air. The kiss is interrupted, but their faces remain close. Derek leans his forehead against Stiles’ while caressing the thin line of hair littering the back of the boy’s neck. Stiles closes his eyes and Derek can feel him shiver beneath his fingertips. It makes him smile with pride, but not because of the power he has over him, because he knows Stiles’ touch affects him just the same. They’re equally affected by one another and that makes Derek feel more powerful than he’s ever been in his entire life.

“Your dad’s got breakfast ready,” he murmurs with his eyes still on Stiles’ parted lips.

Stiles looks at him with confusion at first, but drops the frown when it’s obvious nothing is wrong.

“Not hungry,” he says simply while shifting to lie on his stomach on Derek’s torso, running one thumb along Derek’s jaw with his eyes following his own finger.

Derek lifts his eyebrows in surprise even if his full attention is on Stiles’ face and hands.

“There are presents,” he tries absently, sliding both hands down to Stiles’ hips.

Stiles breathes out huskily onto his face. Derek can feel his entire body warm under the palm of his hands, even through their clothes. Both their hearts are beating fast and hard, pounding against their ribs.

“Don’t want them,” Stiles replies, and his voice is only a whisper now, sending sparks down Derek’s entire body. Finally Stiles lets their eyes lock on each other again. “Got you.”

Derek manages to catch the darkened longing in Stiles’ golden brown eyes before he’s leaning forward again to claim his mouth in another passionate kiss, and whatever Derek was about to say in protest turns into a happy, muffled moan.

 

* * *

 

Downstairs, the sheriff glances up at the clock on the kitchen wall ten minutes after he left Stiles’ room. There hasn’t been a sound since then.

“They’re gonna have a late breakfast,” he rumbles.

Across the table Melissa McCall reaches over to place a hand above his, chuckling softly. He can’t help but smile back at her.

“I think every one of these kids would agree that this was the perfect Christmas,” she says convincingly.

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. ”Kids?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” Melissa remarks. “At least Derek isn’t driven by teenage-hormones like my son. God knows what he and Allison are doing in an empty house…”

At that, he scoffs, flipping his hand over to squeeze her fingers.

“You’re right,” he agrees with a sigh of defeat. “I haven’t seen Stiles so…  _calm_ , for a very long time.”

She smirks and leans over the table.

“That’s what mutual love does to you.”


	26. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dec 31: One week after Christmas, the pack enjoys some fireworks while Stiles and Derek cuddle up on some blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist: [Slashpalooza](http://slashpalooza.deviantart.com/)
> 
> Author: [Ali](http://heylittle-bigman.tumblr.com/)

 

The first firework to go off that night scares Stiles more than he’d care to admit and Derek’s obvious attempt at hiding a laugh doesn’t really do much for his masculinity. It’s not Stiles’ fault that being surrounded by creepy werewolves who sneak up on you all the time has him jumpier than a jack rabbit. In fact, he’s proud of himself; he’s gotten better at it.

But so have the werewolves.

Peter is less like the scary-killer-alpha-who-feeds-off-Stiles’-fear and is more like the crazy-yet-kind-of-sane-uncle-who-still-feeds-off-Stiles’-fear-from-time-to-time.

Boyd stopped taking shadow lessons from Derek and actually partakes in conversations instead of brooding in a corner; believe it or not, he’s actually the biggest instigator when it comes to pack cuddles.

Scott and Derek have actually started  _using his front door_  and not his window, which not only helps keep Stiles’ heart beating at a normal pace, but also makes his dad happy as well. He was like one step away from taking nails and boards to it, swear to God. 

Erica and Isaac, and even Jackson, have taken it upon themselves to collaborate together on “How should we terrorize Stiles this week”, but Stiles isn’t complaining because at least they’re working as a team and isn’t that every important lesson a child should learn?

He’s got his big bad Alpha around to protect him most times, so it’s not as bad as it could be. (Dear God, don’t let him jinx himself.)

“Are you even watching the fireworks or did you get lost inside your own head again?”

Speaking of big bad Alpha…

“Can’t a guy do both?” Stiles huffs, leaning back against Derek’s solid chest. They were snuggled up on a blanket in the middle of a field with Derek’s head buried in Stiles’ neck as Stiles rests his head back against Derek’s shoulder.

Derek hums and bites his earlobe. “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“Thinking about anything right now,” Stiles gasps, “Is extremely difficult with you doing  _that_.”

“Doing what?” Derek licks a stripe up his neck. “This?”

Stiles groans out a weak, “No fair” but doesn’t make any moves to stop him.

It’s only when they hear Scott making gagging noises while Erica and Lydia coo at them do they manage to separate.

“Forever associating them as fun ruiners,” Stiles mutters, bringing his knees up to his chest to hide his very obvious erection.

Derek breathes a laugh, but otherwise doesn’t comment. His arms tighten around Stiles’ chest as he brings his back closer to Derek’s front, wrapping him up nice and tight with all his extra werewolf heat.

Stiles’ sigh of content gets drowned out by the sound of several fireworks going off at the same time and children near by laugh in delight, staring up at the sky like it held the secret to eternal ice cream.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring, no matter how creepy this sounds, at a little baby girl bundled up in pink blankets, held close to her rocking mother as she babbles gibberish that even Stiles could hear over the other noises.

“You know,” Stiles says suddenly, angling his body so he can see Derek’s face, “We should get one of those.”

Derek frowns. “What, fireworks? Why would you-“

Stiles smacks Derek with the back of his hand, but all the good it does him is a bruised hand and some smug laughter. “I meant a baby, doofus.”

“Don’t you think we already have enough of those?” He jokes, gesturing to said babies who are currently piled up on top of each other; maybe a puppy pile or possibly some good old fashioned werewolf wrestling initiated by Jackson and Scott, Stiles wouldn’t doubt either option.

Derek turns Stiles’ face up to his and kisses him lightly. “If it made you happy, Stiles, I’d bring you all the babies in the world.”

Stiles moves his hand, not the one he used to smack Derek it’s still kind of smarting, to the back of Derek’s neck and tugs him closer. “Maybe not  _all_ the babies in the world, but a little girl would be perfect.” He pulls away and glances at their puppies. “Just… not now. Not until those idiots are out of our house, okay?”

Derek laughs out a “Like that’ll ever happen” and brings him in for another set of soft kisses as fireworks explode in the distance. 


End file.
